


The Serendipity House

by thispieceofmind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Closeted, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, high school!au, yeah thats it idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispieceofmind/pseuds/thispieceofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry Styles moves to Doncaster, all he’s hoping for is a fresh start and a little acceptance. Louis Tomlinson is every thing he’s wanted, yet everything he dreads, wrapped up in a treehouse and a footy uniform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Harry was faced with a vast ocean of opportunities and decisions, much like the widespread pond before him, glistening in the sunlight, filled with water plants and algae, pond skippers and dragonflies buzzing about. He glanced around curiously, turning back once to look at the way through the trees from which he came, and then facing forward, staring down the rugged path meant for walking that traced the outskirts of the pond, lined with rocks, stones, and pebbles that led to a place that was unknown and completely foreign to him.  


He shook his head once and took a deep breath, brushing his curls from his eyes and sucking in the fresh August's air. He tentatively took a step forward on the dirt, his Converse-clad feet making a distinct noise against the gentle hum of life in the forest by the pond. As he continued along the pathway, he was met a thickening of the trees, and he slowly lost sight of the water.  
After about two minutes of walking, Harry became frustrated with his shirt, so he stopped in the middle of the path and rolled up the cuffs of his short-sleeved white T-shirt. When he looked up to the left from rolling up his second sleeve, his eyes were met with a truly fascinating sight. Above him, in the treetops, was a giant treehouse that looked handcrafted. There was a staircase made of planks of wood that spiraled up a thick trunk. They were sturdy looking, and a handrail was built into the tree, too.  


Harry craned his head all the way up to see the floorboards of the structure, and the walls, as well. From what he could see on the ground, the fort had a roof as well, but made from larger pieces of wood, covered in dried grass and leaves. As far as Harry could tell, this tree house was made with lots of hard work and care, but he had no idea if anyone still even came to it. His breath caught in his chest as he circled around the base of the tree that supported most of the structure. This was exactly what he need to find on his adventure in the woods. Harry had had no idea what he was looking for when he ventured into the trees, but he had been lonely and bored, so he set out on the journey. Although he had no destination in mind, this was it.  


Harry came to the base of where the spiral staircase started and his green eyes stopped upon the plank of wood hanging, also stuck into the massive tree. Its smooth surface read in perfect print, The Serendipity House. Harry flicked his curls out of his eyes again and ran his hand over the carving. He whispered the words aloud and for some odd reason, it felt good to utter out loud. His eyes flicked around - at the tree house, up and down the path, into the trees. No one was coming this way.  


Harry was unsure on whether or not he should go and take the next step up the staircase. He glanced around unsurely one more time and let his curiosity get the better of himself. He tentatively climbed the planks of wood, at first flinching at the low creaks they let out, but then becoming more relaxed as he ventured up, realizing that it was just part of how the treehouse worked. He climbed higher and higher, becoming more sure and less nervous as he went up. The feeling of exploring this fort was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time.  


Once he reached the top, he noticed that there was at least a good foot of space between the top of his head and the bottom of the fringe coming from the roof. The place was _big_. His palm paused flat on the door that he was about to push open when his eyes fell upon another sign. This one, too, read, The Serendipity House, although it was bigger than the last. The carving of the letters went deeper into the dips of lines, and Harry easily ran a finger down the print of the S. No dust caught on his finger, and that surprised him. Maybe it had rained recently.  
Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and took another small step forward on the small platform that was outside the actual house. It was only about four feet across and it's where the stairs lead directly, until the door was pushed open into the main structure. A rail guarded the small platform so no one would fall and injure themselves. Harry noted, from what he had seen, that this place was very safe.  


He finally put both hands on the door and swung it open, stepping in and literally gasping at the beauty and intricacy of the treehouse. Harry didn't know where to look; the inside of the house was captivating. He stepped forward and let the door swing shut. He turned around to look at where he had come from, and he couldn't help but smile at the other side of the door. On the door were words. Words printed out in all different sizes and fonts and colors, going in every direction, sometimes corners overlapping each other.  


One stood out to him. _Serendipity_. It would stand out to anyone, really. It was smack in the middle of the door, bigger than all of the words, black in color. It was printed out in classic, Times New Roman font, the simplicity of it making it jump out. Surrounding it were many other words; love, hate, happiness, creative, interesting, journey, different, intriguing, carefree, outcast, blend, flourish, expand, standoffish, outright, rude, and so many more. They were endless, innumerable. And each one seemed to have a different font and color and size to go with it. Some didn't seem like that size or color or font would be used with it, but if studied, it would make sense. Hate was written in a strong, bold font, colored red, and big. Not bigger than serendipity, but the next largest one on the surface. Most would think that hate would be written in a less showy way - smaller. No one wanted hate in the world, but the more Harry studied it, the more it made sense.  


Even though no one _wanted_ hate in the world, it was inevitable. Hate was everywhere, and it was dark, and there was definitely a lot of it. Love worked in the same way on the door. It was on the opposite end of the entrance, the top, written in a pink that started out dark at the L, but faded to a soft, light rose by the e. It was smaller, too. Love was hard to find, but not invisible. The script it was written in was elegant, but perfect for the word itself. The color was like a spectrum. Love wasn't just one color; it comes in various shades. Love's different for everyone.  


Harry's eyes floated over the hundreds of words that covered the door that even started to spread onto the ceiling and walls. He couldn't possibly let his gaze fix on every one, to pick apart and decipher all of the meanings, so he turned to the center of the room and was unsure of where to focus his attention next. He turned to what he considered the "back" of the tree house and walked to that side of the room. It was connected to the wall that the door was on, but instead of the whole wall being wooden, at about Harry's waist, there was a window that went across the entire length of the wall. Harry turned his head, and it was the same way on the wall directly across from him, the front of the house. Harry couldn't see what the view from the window was due to curtains that were white, but translucent and allowed sunlight in. He reached across the desks in front of him and pulled open the curtains and was met with a sight like he had never seen before. From this treehouse he could see the tops of trees and birds nests and the vast space of the forest. It was breathtaking. How could he have stumbled upon a place so gorgeous?  


After staring in awe at the canopy view that he had from the back of the fort, he peered down at the desks he had leaned over to pull open the curtains. Four desks lined the back and side of the treehouse and they just came up to where the window started in the back. The desks were not identical. Each was made from a different color and type of wood, but they were built the same. Each had a matching chair and three drawers that pulled out, and Harry assumed that they all held different things. The desks that he was facing currently were covered. Books were stacked on the sides of all different sizes - hardcover and paperback. There were holders full of pens and pencils of all sorts lined up. Some looked store bought, while others were fashioned from ceramic and looked homemade and delicate. They weren't perfect, but Harry saw them as something that was probably precious to someone. Even though he really knew he shouldn't do it, Harry pulled open the six drawers of the two desks he was facing. The bottom two of each held rolls of paper towels and two bottles of Windex. __

_No wonder it was so clean,_

Harry thought.  


Harry definitely did notice that someone was most certainly coming here often. It explained the lack of dust on the signs, as well as just the overall cleanliness and organization of the house itself. The next drawers up held markers and crayons. The top ones held colored pencils and erasers and such.  


Harry closed the six drawers that he had opened, noticing a piece of paper on one of the desks that only had the first sentence of something written on it. Sometimes I wonder about myself, it read. Harry's curiosity got the best of him again and picked up the page, flipping it over multiple times and searching for more, but he found nothing. He sighed and put it back where he found it, knowing he shouldn't have picked it up in the first place. He turned to the wall parallel to the doorway, also lined with two desks, but this side had no windows. 

The drawers' contents were different in these desks, three of them holding only stacks of paper. Another held ink cartridges for fountain pens, as well as several fountain pens themselves. The final two drawers held glue sticks and empty – Harry checked, despite himself – leather bound journals and photo albums. Not all of them in the treehouse were empty, though; three shelves were all lined up - with two level with each other and another in the middle, slightly higher up - and they held ten full - or at least Harry assumed they were, judging by the worn leather and pages - journals (yes, he counted) and three photo albums. Only two albums were on the shelves. One was half done, sitting open on the desk, three pictures glued down, but everything else used to put it together tucked neatly away.  


Harry allowed himself to look down at the pictures before him. They were all of same two boys, smiling broadly on what he recognized to be his new school's football field. One boy was tanned with brown hair shaded slightly lighter than his own, feathered off to the side, while the other was dark, everything about him – he had shining dark eyes, dark tattoos on his dark skin, and his dark hair was up in a quiff. In the last of the three pictures, a girl with hair similar to the first boy's and shining, happy eyes was perched on his knee. Harry kept his gaze on the pictures for quite a while, but discovered nothing new other than their appearance and location. He lifted his eyes from the scrapbook and moved them up to the shelves lined with so many memories. Along with the journals and picture books, were little trinkets and tchotchkes. He saw a shot glass from London, a silver ring with a pattern like the ocean on it, a homemade string bracelet, a smooth pebble, a stone carved boat, and a little chain of paper fish.  


He smiled at the little things that embellished the shelves. It made it more homey and it obviously reflected someone. He ran his finger along the spines of the leather books, loving the way they felt under his touch. Harry moved on from that part of the room and turned to the front of the treehouse, the only part he hadn't explored yet. His feet padded across the wooden floors and stopped at the curtains of the window, this time letting his imagination take over a little, as he pictured what could possibly be behind the white sheets on the second occurrence. Was it the same thing as last time – just a view of the trees? Or was it something completely surprising? Harry took a deep breath as he stepped forward to right in front of the curtains. Gently, he pulled them apart, pushing them up on the hooks that prevented the from falling back into place.  


And surprising it was. If Harry thought the last view of the trees was stunning, then this was simply unreal. From this treehouse in the middle of the woods, was a view of the pond that Harry had spent at least ten minutes admiring when he first stumbled upon it. This– this was gorgeous. It was one of the most magnificent things Harry had ever seen in all of his sixteen years. From way up here, the trees surrounding the pond could be seen forever, as well as the path that lead up to this place that seemed to be so full of wonders and beauty. The pond itself was shining a brilliant blue. It was bright against the dark forest greens and browns. The sun shining against it made a gold glisten that was just dying to be recaptured.  


So that's what Harry did. He looked down at the window and noticed an almost porch-like surface by it. It wrapped around to where the door was and Harry just guessed that he had missed it on his way in. He was now dying to sketch out nature's masterpiece before him, and he decided to borrow a piece of paper and a pencil from this mystery person's stash. He pulled open the drawers he remembered the appropriate supplies to be in and took them out. Harry made his way to the outside, stopping for a moment, though, to admire the intricacy that was the Serendipity House's door. Once he passed through, he walked along the little path that was much like a porch, keeping his hand on the rail that was there just in case. He planted himself down on the edge, let his legs dangle, and began to draw, any stress from the move immediately washing away as soon as he set the pencil against the paper.  


An hour and a half later, there had been no disturbance in the forest where Harry Styles sat drawing, and the sun was beginning to set, and he smiled down at his paper, satisfied with what he had come up with. He stood from his place where he had reside and stretched his back, hearing it crack with a resounding pop. Harry glanced down at his sketch of the pond once more and grinned yet again. He took his paper and folded it twice into a neat square and tucked it into his pocket. The curls were brushed out of his eyes yet again as he walked back into the treehouse he had become so fond of in just a few hours. He put the pencil back where he had found it and turned to face the door one last time for the day. His eyes fell upon an aquamarine colored _adventure_ on the door, written in bubbly letters. He smiled to himself and exited the fort. As he descended the stairs back to the forest floor, Harry was thinking only one thing:  


 _I_ need _to come back here._


	2. Chapter One

“I'm going out again, Mum!” Harry called as he already began to dart out the door, his blue shoes bright against the carpet.  


“All right, Harry, be careful!” Anne called back to her son.  


“When am I not?” he replied cheekily, teasingly towards his mother.  


Harry made his way out of his house and down the street to the dead end that lead to the path that worked its way into the woods. He followed the way that was growing more familiar as he walked along it. By the time he reached the pond he had already grown to love, he was already itching to get his hands on a pencil again so he could give drawing the trees a go. He continued past the water and down through the wooded area until he reached the sign that he was making sure was still there – making sure that it wasn't all just some crazy, beautiful, perfect dream. When he reached the plaque, he ran his hand over it again, just for good measure. A smile spread across his face just at the feel of it, and he stepped up onto the first plank of wood.  


After ascending the stairs, he paused in front of the door, drinking the outside in. Harry did not open the door to what he was expecting. Papers were strewn all over treehouse and there was a boy sitting at the desk closest to the front window. He turned around at the sound of the door.  


“Well, I wasn't expecting visitors today,” he said in a loud voice, chuckling a little bit. Harry stumbled in his reaction. He was a bit nonplussed, completely unsure of how to react. Sure, there was a lad sitting in the house, but at lease ht wasn’t screaming at him to get out. He decided to do nothing, so he just stood in the doorway, gaping. “Close your mouth, Curly; you'll catch flies.” Harry's jaw snapped shut. “Well, I guess you were the kid who snuck in here,” the boy continued, not really caring that Harry was yet to say a word. “I knew a piece of my paper was missing!” Harry's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in shock. 

“Oh, so that really happened? I was just kidding. Oh well, lucky guess for me, then.” Harry breathed out in relief. “So, what's your name, kid?” he asked, getting up from where he had turned and placed his arms behind his head. He stuck a hand out to Harry after subconsciously fixing his feathered hair. “I'm Louis Tomlinson.”  


Harry grasped Louis' soft hand and gave it a firm shake, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach that appeared at such a meaningless touch. “I'm Harry, Harry Styles.”  


"Well, Harry, Harry Styles, nice to meet you," Louis exclaimed happily, flashing a smile to Harry that was already doing things to him that it shouldn't be.  


"Likewise."  


"A quiet one, are you, Harry?"  


"Not normally, no," Harry responded, shooting Louis a smirk.  


"Ah, so why for the change in demeanor?"  


"Well, it's not everyday you meet a new guy in his treehouse, so…" he trailed off, already snapping back to his cheeky self from the momentary shock.  


Louis chuckled at Harry's explanation, but he quickly rebounded and remembered the real reason he had popped out of his seat at the creak of the door he was so accustomed to. He tugged on a piece of Harry’s hair. "So, Curly, what brings you here? Really, I mean… because, I've actually _never_ had a visitor before, or at least while I was here. I'm sure a couple of crazy lads have made their way up here while I'm not around."  


Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously and let out a light laugh. "Well, yesterday afternoon I was proper bored and quite lonely, might I add, so I went out for a bit of, I don't know… _adventure_." His eyes flashed over to the word he had noticed on the way out the day prior. The aquamarine popped as he turned his neck for just a second.  


Louis watched him curiously, but didn't mention anything. He let a faint smile spread across his face at the interest in the door that he worked so diligently on, but still did not speak up. Louis looked Harry in the eye, signaling him to digress.  


"There's a dead end at the end of my street, and I saw a path in the woods, so naturally, I followed it, and obviously, you know I ended up here, mate." Harry smiled a little wider as he finished talking, and Louis flashed one back.  


Louis' grin transformed into a smirk as he said, "Oh, so you think it's okay to just sneak up into my house?"  


Harry didn't fall for his words. "Well, you don't seem so concerned about it now."  


Louis' smiled grew wide again and he clapped a welcoming hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I like you, Styles."  


"Eh, it's part of the charm." They shared a laugh, and Louis was suddenly very aware of his hand on this guy's shoulder. He removed it hastily, but Harry didn't seem to notice his sudden fluster.  


"So, Harry, if you found this place so intriguing, what brought you back?" Louis retreated back to his seat and and gestured to the one by the desk beside him. Harry raised a curious eyebrow at not only his question, but also at his kindness. When he opened the door to see the house's owner, being welcomed in kindly definitely wasn't what he expected. Louis didn't notice his confusion, as his eyes were trained on the desk, cleaning up the papers that he had scattered all over the surface.  


Harry tentatively walked across the boards of the floor and sat in the chair closest to Louis, immediately running his fingers over the smooth, sanded and finished wood, stopping sometimes to dip his fingers in the intricate knots that were there. "To be honest, a lot of things brought me back here," Harry mumbled in his deep voice after a short pause.  


Louis looked up from his work, picking up the papers and tapping them against the table, straightening them. He set the pages down in front of him and then propped his head on his hand, looking at Harry intently. "Go on then, mate."  


Harry was surprised to see Louis' legitimate interest in him. He wasn't used to the attention, quite the opposite, really. He was used to being ignored and either treated like dirt, or like he wasn't there at all – invisible. Harry thought for a moment about his response.  


"Like I said, a lot of things… but, as lame as this sounds, one of the biggest ones was the tranquility of it all." Harry's words were soft and mumbled, but Louis heard them at their close proximity. Harry's head hung.  


"It's not lame," Louis whispered. "Why do you think I come here?" he asked rhetorically. His voice rose a little when he spoke again, but just higher than a whisper. "Harry, this place is like a haven for me. I practically _live_ for the peace." His voice was raw and honest, and he was burning holes through 

Harry's head with his eyes, but the other boy's head stayed down.  


"Really?" Harry asked quietly. "You don't really seem like you have a lot to hide. You practically ooze confidence and spontaneity."  


"We just met, Curly. You can't draw that from a few minutes."  


"Just an assumption," Harry mumbled.  


"Well, we _all_ know what happens when you assume." Louis cracked a smile, and Harry lifted his head bashfully, chuckling lightly.  


"Yeah, we do," Harry said through laughs, some of the heavy tension in the air slipping away.  


"So, Harry, carry on. I want to hear a little more why you came here, and who knows, maybe I'll let you stay." He winked, and Harry laughed again, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at this new acquaintance's antics.  


"Well, I guess the next one was probably the view. Both views, actually." His hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers ran over the soft, worn paper of the sketch he had drawn just the day before. He had tucked it into the pocket of his chinos just before he darted out the door. He contemplated taking it out, but his self consciousness took over. Louis was looking at him like that again, though, like he wanted more of an explanation. "When I came here the first time, I came 'round to that pond, and it was literally the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. It was, like, unreal. For a weird reason, as odd as it sounds, it was if all of my problems were laid out before me.  


"In case you haven't realized just yet, Louis, I'm new to this town. I don't know anyone, and I have a lot to think about for… what I'm going to do when I go to school this year. It's just confusing for me, and being able to just relax and enjoy that sight, well, it was like my problems and stress just washed away. Plus, it was so gorgeous, it inspired my inner-" Harry cut himself off mid-sentence when he realized he was about to say the one thing he had just stopped himself from doing a moment before.  


Louis looked at him, confused. His eyes were soft as they met Harry's, and they looked welcoming. Their stunning blue was piercing straight into Harry, and he spoke softly when he asked, "Inner what, Harry? I won't judge you, I promise. I'm not… I'm not like that." Harry noticed the slight falter in his words, but he felt the honesty in them, too.  


"My inner artist. I'm shit it at it, but I decided that I wanted to draw the pond, so, yeah." Harry reached into his pocket, forgetting about his inhibition, and unfolded the small square of paper.  


Before he got a chance to lay it down on the desk Louis said, "Oh, so there's my mysterious disappearing paper. Quirky." He flashed Harry another smile, of not only joking, but of encouragement. Harry placed the paper flat on the desk in front of Louis, and he heard his new friend gasp.  


"Harry…" Louis murmured. "Do you really think you're shit at this?" Harry turned his head away, refusing to meet Louis' eyes. "Haz, look at me."  


Harry's head snapped up at the nickname. "Haz?" he asked curiously.  


Louis faltered. "Uh, yeah… is that okay? Like Hazza, Haz?"  


"Don't freak, _Lou_ ," he said, putting emphasis on his own nickname for the owner of this treehouse in the middle of the woods, "it's just been a while since anyone's called me that." He gave him a soft smile.  


"Oh, well, okay. Sorry."  


"It's fine, Louis, really," Harry reassured, a bigger smile gracing his face as a confirmation. Some of the tension that they had cut through before by laughing was back, and both boys' thoughts were whirring, confused, excited, and nervous.  


Harry was more nervous over anything. The butterflies in his stomach were infuriating and he was still fighting back the inkling in his mind that Louis knew who he was and what he was, and this was all just one big joke to him. Harry couldn't help but think that no one could ever possibly be nice to _him_. He was Harry Styles, the boy that was constantly being beaten down and pushed away for who he was.  


Louis, on the other hand, was confused. Very. He sensed Harry’s nerves. He could see his reactions to things Louis did or said, but he couldn't bring himself to ask why. They had just met, after all; Louis didn't have the rights to pry. Sometimes his eyes would flick back and forth as if he was scared of Louis' gaze. Louis was at a loss of what to do. Instead of doing something that could possibly embarrass Harry, he decided to just return the smile that was sent his way and gaze back down at the beautiful sketch before him.  


"Harry," Louis said carefully after the long pause they sat through, "do you really think you're shit at this?" He repeated his question, softer this time.  


Harry looked away. "Yeah," he mumbled, all of the confidence he had had when he first drew it gone. The presence of this boy just seemed to take that away from him – the presence of anyone, really.  


"You're not. Please continue drawing. If you think this is shit, well, then Picasso might as well be a dumpster. Harry, as long as you continue to draw, you can come here whenever you want."  


Harry gently lifted his head again. "Really?" he asked to all of what Louis just said.  


"Yes. Honest to God, Harry. You have a _gift_. And honestly, even if you didn't draw, I'd let you come back. You seem like a great guy."  


"Really?" Harry asked. His eyes widened in the realization of what he had just said. "Oh, God, I sound like a broken record." His words were muffled, as he buried his head in hands halfway through the sentence.  


Louis chuckled and smiled, barely noticing the pink that stained Harry's cheeks as he lifted his head. "Yeah, really. I want to get to know you better, Harry. So go on, tell me about yourself."  


Harry smirked. "No way you're getting away with just me talking. We're playing questions. You go, I go, and we both have to answer every question, deal?"  


"Perfect." Louis grinned and tucked his knees up so they were bent in front of him. "Me first?" Harry nodded affirmative. "Right, so, Harry, how old are you?"  


"Sixteen." He jerked his head at Louis, signaling for him to go next.  


"Seventeen. So, you're in the year below me, yeah? Lovely." There was an undertone to his voice that almost sounded sarcastic, but Harry couldn't pick apart what it really was.  


Harry smirked a little and paused before his first question. "Favorite color?"  


"Come on, Hazza! That's boring! Be creative."  


"Can't take it back now, can I?" Harry asked cheekily, his dimples gracing his face. "Mine's blue." He vaguely gestured down at his blue T-shirt and shoes.  


"Red. Now, let's make this more interesting. If it was you last day on Earth, what would you do?"  


"Err… I guess I'd go for a bungee jump, hand out with my mates back home, eat lots of food, spend time with my mum and family, and maybe give skydiving a go? If I could, anyway."  


Louis heard everything his new mate had said, but registered only two words. "Back home?"  


Harry's expression that was previously gleeful suddenly changed to panicked and upset. "Oh, err… yeah. I said before that I'm new to this town, but I guess I didn't mention that I just moved here at the beginning of the week. Uh, that's why when I told you why I showed up here I said it was because I was lonely and bored. Didn't you realize that I don't look familiar?"  


"Right! Sorry. I mean, I don't know _everyone_ , and, well, you're a year below me, but, um, sorry."  


"Why are you apologizing? My stepdad had to move for work, it's okay. I mean, I really shouldn't have said back home – Cheshire. This is my home now." 

He sighed loudly. "I need a fresh start anyway."  


"I understand, mate. Sorry, that was kind of intrusive of me."  


Harry shrugged. "Not really. Just curiosity." A smile spread across his face as he paused. "So, Lou, what would _you_ do if it was your last day on Earth?"  


By the end of their game, it was like Harry and Louis had been best mates for ages. Harry found out that Louis had four younger sisters, his parents were divorced, his middle name was William, he has a thing for stripes, his best friend's name was Zayn (who was the other boy in the pictures), he's addicted to Yorkshire tea, he's the co-captain of the footy team with Zayn, and he's dating a girl named Eleanor (who was also in the pictures).  
Harry's heart had dropped a little when he found out that Louis had a girlfriend, but he forced himself to not be sensitive about it. They had just met today, after all. He had told Louis "… that's great, mate! She's a lucky bird." He made his tone casual and not at all jealous, and Louis sent him a brilliant smile in return of the compliment.  


Louis found out that Harry had one older sister, his parents were also divorced, his middle name was Edward, he had a thing for cats, his best mate's name was Nick, he did miss Cheshire a little, but he hadn't had a lot of time to miss it yet, he's a food snatcher, he's rubbish at football, and he's currently single.  


Louis couldn't say he was surprised at most of the things Harry had said, but he was always interested in what would next come out of the boy's mouth, whether it be a cheeky retort, a mumbled, embarrassed response, or just his pure, booming laugh. They were constantly cracking jokes, goofing off, and egging smiles out of each other with just the simplest things; they had an instant connection.  


They could both feel their game coming to a close, even though there was still so much to discover about one another. It was sad to see the sun going down and their first meeting coming to an end. There was just one more question itching at the back of Harry's mind, dying to be asked – a _creative_ one, as Louis put it.  


"Okay, Lou, I have one more question for you."  


"Shoot," he responded, shifting for what was probably the fifth time during the game.  


"What's your guilty pleasure?"  


"Hazza, are you sure you're ready to reveal such vital information to me?" Louis joked, throwing his head back a little to get at a kink in his neck.  
Harry laughed. "I asked it, didn't I?" Louis grinned. "Actually, I have more than one guilty pleasure."  


“So do I. Should we say two?”  


“If that's what you'd like, mate. Some of mine are quite embarrassing, actually.”  


Louis' smile grew wider and he laughed. “Mine, too. We are just having lots of things in common, now aren't we, Haz? I guess they're just embarrassing because they're _guilty_ pleasures, after all.”  


“You have a point there, Lou. Less embarrassing one first, on three?” Harry asked, trying to compromise.  


“Works for me… three, two, one.”  


At once, both boys opened their mouths to say the same thing. “Singing.” They then proceeded to look at each other incredulously with shit-eating grins on their faces as well as looks of surprise, before bursting into a new round of laughter at yet _another_ thing in common, along with the fact they had said it in perfect synchronization.  


“Wait, wait, you're serious, right?” Louis asked, recovering from his fit of laughter and wiping his eyes a little.  


“No, Lou. I just wanted to trick you and say what you were thinking. And _obviously_ , I knew exactly what that was, because I can read minds like that,” Harry countered, his voice laced with sarcasm. Louis' face turned into an over exaggerated frown, eyebrows furrowed. Harry could tell he was kidding. “Yes, Lou, I'm serious.”  


Louis let his frown transform into a wide smile and he let out a laugh. "You got me there, Styles." Harry just raised his eyebrows up and down in a quick jump and let himself reciprocate the smile. “So, Harry, come on, sing for me!”  


Harry shot him a glare that read 'are you kidding me' in an almost comical way. “What? No!”  


“Why not?”  


“Only if you do, too.”  


"No! I'm rubbish at it!"  


"And how do you know I'm not?"  


"Touché."  


Harry smirked and ran his hand through his curls. "Maybe some other time. We'll _both_ sing. Deal?"  


“Fine," Louis grumbled, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "Second one, I guess?" he asked, unsure if they were still listing their second guilty pleasure.  


"Right," Harry said, realizing that they still had another one to say. "On three?" Louis nodded, his bright, cerulean eyes meeting Harry's. "Three, two, one!"  


At the same time, they both uttered one word, different this time, though.  


"Drawing," Harry mumbled.  


"Writing," Louis whispered, barely audible.  


Harry couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped his lips at Louis' answer. The feathered haired boy gave him a strange look that said that he was a mixture of both offended and confused. "What?" he asked.  


"Nothing, nothing," Harry murmured between giggles. Louis arched an eyebrow at him, confused by his laughter. Harry laughed again. "Fine, it's just that, it explains all the journals and papers and shit."  


"Oh, so you went through the _entire_ house?"  


"I was very _intrigued_ when I came here. So, uh, yeah, I kinda looked through everything." Louis' face began to look panicked. "But not any of the journals! Don't worry. Just the drawers and stuff." Louis relaxed immediately and his face transformed into a smile.  


"So, I have a bit of a creeper on my hands, do I?"  


Harry chuckled again. "I prefer the word fascinated, but whatever you like, mate." Louis joined in on the laughter, too, but then a thought occurred to him.  


"But what about you, Harry? Drawing? How is that guilty?"  


Harry's eyes darted away from Louis' bright blue ones yet again. He tugged on the end of his shirt nervously and sighed. He knew he wasn't getting out of this. "It is a guilty pleasure. No one _knows_ I draw. Actually, I think you're the only one who knows. And like I said, I'm shit at it."  


"Harry," Louis said softly, his eyes boring into the top of Harry's curly head, where it was looking down. "Harry, look at me." Harry slowly drew his gaze back to Louis, who was wearing a concerned expression. "First off, I repeat, you are not shit at this, and secondly, why do you hide it?"  


"Why do you?" Louis didn't respond to that. This time, it was his gaze that strayed from Harry, who was growing frustrated. At Louis' failure to respond, a little hint of a smirk etched itself onto Harry's face. "Exactly, Lou! It's not something you need to broadcast to everyone. If you haven't got to, why bother? I mean, I'm used to not having _anyone_ notice me, I don't see how this would even help. I don't see it as much of a talent, either."  


Louis stayed quiet for a moment, drinking in Harry's words. "No one noticed you?" His normally loud, excited voice was soft and tender, his tone making it obvious that he didn't like that Harry was treated badly in the past.  


Harry faltered. _Shit_. "Erm… yeah. It's just – I just, uh…” he stammered. Harry knew that he sounded like a spluttering idiot and he quickly shook his curls out of his eyes to hid his embarrassment. "I guess…" Harry sighed. "I just wasn't the most well liked at my old school. It doesn't matter, really Louis."  


"Do you want to talk about it?"  


Harry thought for a minute. Did he want to talk about it? _Yes_. Was he ready to? Probably not. So, he decided on a happy medium. "Not yet…" he admitted, "but soon, Louis. I need it." Louis flashed him a warm smile of understanding and Harry returned it. This conversation was _not_ going in the right direction. It was _supposed_ to be light and funny. He struggled with a way to change it, as there was still something itching at the back of his mind. After a pause, "You too, y'know," Harry mumbled. "I mean, I know since you're the captain of the football team and you have a fit girlfriend," – Louis interrupted him with a quick, embarrassed laugh and a sheepish smile that Harry reluctantly returned – "that you probably don't have too much trouble at school, but if you… y'know, ever need to talk about, like the writing and stuff, well… like, you know you can talk to me, okay?"  


Louis smiled gratefully and stood from his chair. "Thank you, Harry." Harry stood too, knowing that it was probably time to leave. The sun was already starting to set. Time just seemed to pass so quickly for Harry whenever he was in the house. "You know you're welcome back here any time?" Louis asked, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, blue eyes meeting green.  


Harry sent him a cheeky smile. "Tomorrow, aye, mate?"  


"Definitely. Seems like my little curly creeper has become quite a nice friend." Harry smiled wider. "It was great to meet you, Haz." Even that phrase sounded odd. It didn't seem as though they had just met today, only a few hours ago.  


"You too, Lou. Nice place you've got."  


"Why thank you, Curly." They looked at each other for a few, long seconds, and then Louis did what Harry was least expecting. He pulled him into a big hug, squeezing tightly. "Might as well get comfortable, Hazza." Harry just hugged back in response, breathing in Louis' scent that he knew was bound to become familiar.  


When they separated, Harry walked over to the exit, pausing at the magnificent door. "Later, Lou." He grinned.  


"Stay safe!" he called back jokingly. Harry laughed as he walked out and descended the stairs. This time, as he left the treehouse, there was something else on his mind:  


_Would it be the same if he knew?_


	3. Chapter Two

"Are you done yet?" 

"Lou, for the fiftieth time, if you keep asking me, I'm not going to finish any sooner." 

"But, _Curly_ ," Louis drawled. 

"Yes, dear?" Harry joked, looking up from the paper before him, only slightly irritated, and mostly extremely amused. He forced himself not to panic at the term of endearment he had just let slip. Louis did it all the time as a joke. When they texted he constantly slipped one in. It was quite funny, actually, especially the way and times Louis said it. That boy could bring a smile to Harry's face by just merely opening his mouth. 

"Ugh, nothing. Just finish up, mate! I wanna see!" Louis complained, making a feeble attempt at looking over Harry's shoulder where he was sitting at the desk. 

"Louis, honestly, you're probably just making me go even slower." 

Louis sighed, defeated, and returned to his seat next to Harry, where a notebook lay open with a pencil wedged in between the pages to mark his place. Harry let a smirk grace his face as he lowered his head and turned back to his work. A piece of paper, pencil, and gummy eraser sat on the desk, the drawing near completion. 

Louis had begged him to draw something for him, and they had even dug out a manila folder for Harry to put his work in. Harry had just scrawled his name on the front of it in messy script – nothing like his art, it was odd – and put his sketch of the pond, still regretfully folded, inside. Now he was working on his second addition to the folder, a drawing of one of Louis' old journals, open to a random page, full of words that Harry hadn't bothered to read. It was an invasion of privacy, and besides, he wasn't writing out the words anyway. He worked away diligently, hearing the comforting scratch of Louis' pencil on paper. He smiled to himself knowing that his friend was working again. Plus, he wouldn't be bothered either. 

It had been four days since their meeting, and Harry had come back on every single one. On Saturday, which was yesterday, Louis hadn't come because it was Eleanor's day off from where she worked as a camp counselor, but Louis had given Harry his blessing to return even though he wouldn't be there himself. Harry had accepted the offer graciously and just come to the Serendipity House to sit and relax, and he even plucked one of Louis' many books and had a bit of a read. Not a long one, though. His surroundings captured his attention too much. When he had been sitting around that day, a new word on the door caught his eye. _Bound_. It was bright and blue, and fairly average in size, but the word itself had so many meanings, and it's being on the door just made it that much harder to decipher. 

It could represent motion. To walk or run with leaping strides. To move. Or to rebound off of a surface. It could be that kind of bound. 

It could be a frontier. A territorial limit. A boundary. It could be that kind of bound. 

Or it could be attachment. When you're bound to someone, or something, you're connected, emotionally or physically. It's a kind of empowerment that's hard to be broken. 

Harry wondered which one it could be, or whether or not it represented all three. 

Why was it blue? To symbolize the loyalty it took to be bound to someone? Were there always reasons? Or significant ones, at least? Harry knew they weren't just for looks. He could tell by each one he had looked over that they weren't there just to look nice. He could tell by Louis, too. Even though Louis was a jokester and wasn't always the most serious, his writing was one of the most salient, major things in his life, and Harry knew, he just knew that this door had so much meaning and time and effort put into it. Maybe the blue resembled creativity a person seems to radiate when they bound somewhere. This one Harry just couldn't seem to pick apart fully. 

He looked around a lot that day, too. Just observed. It was different without Louis there, but he wasn't going to lie to himself, he caught himself singing in the presence of no one quite a bit. He wondered many times when he and Louis were going to share their guilty pleasure. He could tell just by Louis' voice that him singing was going to be angelic, but he couldn't say that to him. It'd be too weird. 

On his first day back after he had met Louis, one question had been on his mind the entire time. "How the hell do you keep this place so clean?" he had asked out of the blue, disturbing the silence that had been so peaceful around them. 

Louis had merely laughed loudly and responded, "It's actually the only place I keep so neat. You should see my room; it's horrid. I guess since it's my comfort place, it needs to stay clean, or else it wouldn't be as nice to visit." Harry had thought over his words and smiled. He really liked Louis. He was the kind of person he had always wanted to have as a friend. Harry still couldn't believe he had found him. 

But there was that nagging at the back of his mind that he wouldn't have him for much longer if he kept hiding. 

Now, as Harry drew with Louis next to him, his pencil still scratching away at the paper, he grinned to himself, just happy to be in Louis' presence. The presence of a _friend_. They shared so much over the few days they knew each other, and they bonded so quickly, it was almost unreal. Harry never thought he would make friends in Doncaster before school started, let alone at such a rapid pace. The smile on his face grew wider at just the mere thought. 

Louis noticed that Harry was no longer moving his pencil along the paper, and he looked up from his notebook. "What's up, Harry?" 

Harry laughed lightly. "Nothing, Lou. I'm just happy, y'know? It feels like forever since I've able to do something like this, especially with a friend." Louis grinned widely and got up out of his chair. "Lou what are you-" Louis sprung up behind him and wrapped his arms around Harry where he was sitting. He hooked his chin on his shoulders and laughed. 

"Well, Harold, I'm happy, too. Quite jovial, might I say. It feels nice to have some company up here. I've never even bothered to show Zayn… it might not be his thing." 

"Why not give it a try, Louis? You never know, especially if he's your best friend. You've know each other since you were little, right?" 

Louis smiled fondly. "Yeah. Yeah, we have." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Will you do it with me, Hazza?" 

"Do what?" 

"Show him the house!" 

"W-what?" Harry spluttered. "Why? We just met, how do you expect me to help show your _childhood_ friend one of the biggest parts of your life you've got?" Harry was absolutely gobsmacked. _Him?_ Help Louis with _this_? 

Louis unwrapped his arms from around Harry and pulled out his chair so he could sit facing the curly haired boy. After plopping himself down, he looked Harry straight in the eye. "Come on, Haz, please? You _know_ it doesn't feel like we just met. And hey, just think, maybe if you and Zayn get on really well, then look, you'll have another mate for school! He's a good lad, I'm sure you'll hit it off. He's always a good laugh." 

Harry still seemed unsure. As great and tempting as the offer sounded, he wavered on what decision he was going to make. Of course, he _wanted_ to meet the lad, he seemed lovely, and of course, he _wanted_ to have a new mate for when school started in two weeks, but did he really _want_ to interfere with something that was obviously very important to Louis, as well as with his friendship with Zayn? "Before I answer yes or no, can I ask you a question?" 

Louis smiled cheekily and replied, "You just did." Harry frowned. "Yeah, Harry, 'course," he amended. 

Harry smiled and that showed that he wasn't truly upset. "Does Zayn know that you write? I mean, I don't really know too much about it, like what or why, or whatever, but I can tell… I can tell it's important to you." 

"Yeah. Yeah, he knows I write. I mean, it's actually a bit of a funny story, how he found out." Louis smiled and chuckled fondly at the memory. 

Harry looked at his happy friend with hopeful eyes. "Well, go on then, mate. I wanna hear it! I'm always up for a good story, I haven't got too many myself." 

"While I doubt that's true, Harold, sure, I'll tell you about it." A brilliant grin lit up Louis' face, and Harry's breath hitched. He couldn't help but find his friend stunning when his expression was filled with such pure joy, his face graced with a shining smile, the light from the sun filtering in through the window of the treehouse, casting shadows but also showing off the natural highlights of his hair. The sunlight reflected off of his cerulean eyes, glistening an impossible blue that lit up the whole room that was already so bright. "Hazza? You with me?" 

Louis' sudden speech jolted Harry out of his fixation on his friend's beauty. "Oh, sorry, mate. I guess I just zoned out there for a bit." 

Louis chuckled. "Am I that boring?" 

Harry smiled, albeit the slightest bit nervously. "Ah, no, Lou. Quite the opposite, honestly." 

"Thank you, babe, I'm honored." Harry laughed. "So, how Zayn found out about my writing… let's see. I've got to say it was in about sixth year? Yeah, spot on, sixth year. So that makes me about eleven or twelve. I had always liked it, I guess. In class we were never, like, forced to read any of our work out loud, so I never volunteered. It was just something I wanted to keep private. My teachers would tell me that I had a talent and that I should share it, but I never did." 

Harry smiled, slightly confused. He spoke with a slight sarcastic undertone to his voice. "As heartwarmingly beautiful as this story is, how's it got to do with Zayn?" 

Louis chuckled. "Patience, Curly. I'm getting there." He flashed his stunningly white teeth Harry's way, fixing one of his braces. He pushed the white suspender straighter on his shoulder and started up talking again, crossing his legs first. "So, as I was saying, they told me to share it, but I never did. One day, Zayn came over to my house, just to chill out, and when I was in the loo, I guess he saw a notebook that I had left open on my desk." 

Harry interrupted him before he got the chance to say his next sentence. "Oh, so this was before you upgraded to journals, I see?" 

"Oh, ha, ha," Louis said dryly, flicking pages of the one he had before him. "But yes, before the journals." Harry stayed silent, but smiled cheekily, a signal to Louis to continue on with his story. "So, when I came back into the room, I saw him looking through it and I got quite angry quite quickly. Jumping to conclusions, I guess." 

Harry chuckled lightly and let a soft smiled etch itself on his face. "Watch yourself, Tomlinson!" he joked, his deep dimples present in his expression. 

"Hey, I think I've learned my lesson since then." 

"Just checking, Lou. You never know." 

Louis smiled again - which was something he couldn't seem to stop doing around Harry. He even blushed a little bit, although he made sure that Harry couldn't see by hanging his head. It was only about five seconds before he knew that pink that tinged his cheeks was gone, and he covered it up with a brush of his feathered fringe out of his eyes. He made eye contact with Harry once again. 

"Right, so… at first, I kinda… totally flipped my shit at Zayn for picking it up, y'know? I mean, honestly, I can't blame him; I was the one who left it open on my desk, but I've got to say, he could've at least _asked_." 

"Ah, but Lou, the real question is whether or not you'd say yes." Harry raised his eyebrows cheekily, already knowing the answer to his own question. 

Louis hung his head bashfully. "No, probably not back then… But I would now!" he tacked on the end hastily. 

"Yeah, but that's because he snooped. If he never did, you wouldn't be as comfortable today. Who knows, you might still be hiding if it weren't for that." Harry laughed lightly, realizing that he was completely correct. 

"You've got me there, Hazza. Really, all in all, it was a good thing he found it, but I was just mad in the moment." 

" _Okay_ , Lou," Harry said, exaggerating the first word, showing the slightest bit of mocking in his voice. "Now carry on." 

"So, I yelled at him, but he was kind of standing there with a huge smile, and he looked like he had just one the damn lotto or something. He's a bit of a loon, really. Then he burst out laughing. I thought he was like, on drugs until I realized what page he was on." Harry perked up in his seat curiously as the story got more interesting. "He was open to the page… oh, God this is embarrassing… that had a story written about him and his crush of the time." 

"Wait, I don't get how-" 

"And there was a drawing at the bottom." 

"Yeah, but-" 

"They looked like giraffes, I swear. It was right shit. Oh, my God, it was so bad, it was humorous, and he just found that _so_ amusing that he just cracked up, having a good old laugh right in my bedroom, holding my prized notebook in his hands, staring at it, having a great little bit of fun - at my expense, of course." 

Harry was biting his lip at this point, restraining himself until he could hold it in no longer, and he burst out laughing as well, just like Zayn had. Through his hearty chuckles he exclaimed, "That's _great_ , mate! Priceless." He barely got it out before collapsing into another round of giggles. 

"Actually, Haz, I didn't even end up yelling at him for laughing. The picture was so horrid that I had a laugh too." 

Harry beamed at him after calming himself down - a look of pure joy and amusement. "That's excellent, Louis. Great story. So, what'd the lad say when he finally stopped nearly weeing himself on the spot?" 

"Oh, I just explained to him that I like to write. I mean, the story about him was when I was _thoroughly_ out of ideas, so that explained that. He totally got it, though, and still does. He actually helps me out with ideas, every now and again. He's my best mate, so he really gets me." 

"That's grand, Lou. He sounds like a cool lad." 

"So… what do you say, Hazza?" 

"Say to what?" 

"Will you help me show Zayn? Please? It'll be like killing two birds with one stone. I show Zayn the house, and you get to meet him." 

Harry was wavering on his decision, but after seeing how persistent Louis was, as well as hearing that story about Zayn (who really seemed like Harry's kind of guy), he desperately wanted to say yes. But just to be sure, he double checked one more time. 

"Are you sure, Louis? Because I can tell this is kind of a big deal for you, and-" 

"Harry!" Louis exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and in front of Harry's, placing a stern hand on Harry's shoulder and looking down between his curls to meet the powerful green eyes there. "I'm _asking_ you to do this with me, okay? I _want_ you to." 

Harry sighed, but then smiled. "Okay, okay, I'll help you show Zayn the treehouse." 

"Really, Haz? You're the best!" Suddenly, another hand was on Harry's shoulders, and he was being yanked up and out of his chair and into the arms of the boy who was quickly becoming his best friend – even if it was the only one he had in Doncaster. 

*** 

Harry returned home to his mum after a long afternoon with Louis, and greeted her with a shining grin on his face. Anne had yet to ask where exactly Harry was venturing off to, but it seemed as though each evening Harry came home, he had an even bigger smile on his face than the last. She did find out, though, just from mother's instinct and a question here and there, that Harry's place was local, safe, and yes, that he had met a friend. Who- and whatever this person or place was, was making Harry happy, even if it was still a mystery to her. And honestly, that's all that Anne wanted. If Harry was happy, she was too. She was just relieved that he had made a new friend in this place she had thought he would have no one. 

Anne didn't pry, either. She knew that when Harry was ready to reveal everything about his new, secret location, he would. She trusted her son. When he walked through the door that day, they both sat and had a bit of tea. They chatted together while drinking their cup, Harry answering questions loosely when Anne asked them, still not ready to tell everything just yet. Harry realized that if felt good to talk to his mum again. She had been so stressed about the move that he hadn't had too much time to. When they finished, he left the room with an, "I love you, Mum." 

When Harry entered his room after climbing the stairs, he flopped down onto his bed, staring up emptily at the ceiling. His eyes wandered around the room, or, at least, what they could see from this angle. They found a cork board hanging on his wall, spattered with pictures and old souvenirs. Harry had hung it up right away when they moved in, needing a little reminder of home. There was another one, but it was on the floor of his closet, empty, as he had nothing to put on it yet. He yearned to fill it with friends and memories of this new town – _of Louis_ , a voice in his head reminded him. Needing to study his board closer, he lazily rolled out of his bed and walked to the other side of the room, realizing what an eternity it felt like since he had been back in Cheshire, back in Holmes Chapel. 

He stared at the pictures before him, capturing each image in his mind and slotting it with a memory he had from back home. Well, not home anymore. Back in Cheshire. Really, when he looked hard enough, he had only left behind two people. It would've been more, but that was before his life spun out of control, before, when people gave him the time of day. They _acknowledged_ him, they _talked_ to him, hell, they even _liked_ him. That was when Harry was on top of the world, when he was one of the most popular boys in school, before everything came crumbling down around him. He studied the pictures, smiling at the ones with Nick and Will in them, the two brilliant friends he had left behind when he moved. It wasn't as if they never talked, of course. There was phones and Facebook and emails and texts, but really it just wasn't the same, not being with them. It was the kind of bond that just seemed to lose strength when knew you wouldn't be seeing the person anytime soon. It saddened Harry, thinking like that, but seeing the pictures before him reminded him that they would always be friends, even if he wouldn't be in constant contact with them. 

His eyes fell upon two particular photos of the three of them. One was at a party that someone had thrown in the beginning of the summer after year nine had just finished. They were standing in the backyard of a large house, smiling with drinks in hand. Another photo was of them laughing hysterically, covered in the snow, standing outside. His mum had caught it of them after watching one of their neighbors Harry wasn't particularly fond of eating in the snow after slipping on some ice. Originally, Harry had been mad at Anne for taking the picture with no warning, but now, looking at it, he was grateful beyond words. There was a bracelet from his Coldplay concert hanging there, too, the one he needed to get into the show. The ticket was along side it. An old string bracelet Gemma had made him was tacked up there as well. He remembered the very summer she had made it for him when they were sitting outside on the lawn, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying the time together that they still had, knowing that she would leave soon. He remembered that, too, when his sister left for uni. He'd never forget. He missed that from Holmes Chapel. Being with his sister every day. But being in Doncaster made no difference, she'd be gone either way. Harry couldn't decide whether being away from the memories that he shared with his sister was a good thing or bad. Did he want to be constantly reminded by them by being there (although, there was nothing he could do about it), or was being away from them the reminder? 

After looking over every picture two times, his thoughts were becoming almost overwhelming. To try to tone them down in the slightest, not even knowing if this would do anything at all, he plugged his iPod into his dock, turning on Coldplay's most recent album in honor of his ticket from so long ago. It almost seemed like a different life. The music was soothing to Harry, but it didn't remove his thoughts, or at least not completely. He retreated to his bed again, his head flopping onto the soft down of his pillow. His thoughts transitioned again, from the past and the memories there that he loved, as well as those which haunted him, to the present, and what was going to come with this new place. 

He thought of this town he was living in, and the school he was going to attend, and the people he was going to meet, as well as the one he already had. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he was scared. He was scared of what people were going to think of him and how people were going to react to the new kid. He had never had to experience anything like this before. He told himself to at least be thankful for the fact that he was entering the grade at the beginning of the year, instead of some other part when everything was already in full swing. He would've _really_ been lost then. It was a very troubling situation, the one he was in. 

He sighed loudly and closed his eyes in exhaustion, but knew with thoughts like these he was not going to catch a bit of sleep. His hunger added to the factor, too. Tea and biscuits wasn't _completely_ satisfying. His mind took him back to Louis again. A smile broke out on his face just from even thinking about his reaction to his finished picture of the journal. The stunning smile and bright blue eyes appeared in Harry's head. He could practically _hear_ Louis' first intake of breath at the sight of the sketch. When thinking about Louis, he couldn't help but wonder where his social status stood at the school. He was a year eleven co-captain of the football team who was charming, kind, and could make a brick seem hilarious. It seemed almost obvious to Harry that Louis was popular, but he couldn't just go assuming. 

Thinking about Louis' social standpoint led to him thinking about his own. Where would he stand this time around? Last time, it went down the drain, but would things be different here? He wondered – no matter how much he didn't want to let himself – if Louis would stay his friend at school. The thought of not having him made Harry even more nervous than he already was about attending his new school. Would he introduce Harry to new people, or would he not be there at all? Would he even make friends at all? On his own, that is. He wanted to think that Louis would be there beside him to help guide his way through this whole new ordeal, but there was an inkling in the back of his mind telling him that he wouldn't, or at least there was a possibility that Louis _might_ not be there, that Harry would be all on his own. 

But that was ridiculous, right? Because Harry and Louis were already good friends. 

Harry was tentative for other reasons, too. He couldn't foresee anything at all. He didn't even begin to predict how people were going to view him. How could he? The last time he had to worry about anyone judging him – other than Louis, that is – was when he made that decision that changed his life. To tell people. And then they had just hated him. Would starting fresh even change anything at all? He just didn't _know_. He didn't know what to think, he didn't know what to expect, he didn't even know how to begin to tackle the problem. 

And that was infuriating. 

Pushing thoughts of school away, he let his mind wander again. He told himself to focus on summer, and what little of it he had left. He took a deep breath and turned on his side, cuddling up in his duvet. As the beginning piano chords to "Clocks" began to play, Harry started to doze off, a pair of bright blue eyes fresh in his mind.


	4. Chapter Three

Harry wrung his hands nervously as he paced his room. He didn't know why he was freaking out, really, but he was. He had just about an hour until he was supposed to be at the treehouse, and he was, well, lightly put, panicking. He didn't even have a valid reason, either. But the nerves just seemed to take over. His closet doors were open, but it seemed like nothing was suitable to wear. He currently only wore a pair of boxer-briefs, and he pushed his fingers through is hair, curls falling onto his eyes. He had tried on several outfits, but nothing seemed right. It's not like he could ask his mum, either. What was he supposed to say to her? "Oh, hey Mum, wanna come upstairs and help me pick out an outfit so I can impress the boy I've been hanging out with in his treehouse when shows it to his childhood friend for the first time?" 

Yeah, no. 

He dug through the last box he hadn't unpacked from the move in hopes of finding _something_. When he reached the bottom, he sighed. He looked through all of the shirts one last time, and he realized that he had mistaken two shirts for one, both of the same color. Harry smiled as he unfolded it, revealing the numbers 1 8 5 6. He tugged it on, grinning at the feel of one of his favorite clothing articles on his long torso. 

Deciding to just play it simple with his pants, he tugged on a pair of beige chinos and a black belt. He slipped into his converse and glanced over at the alarm clock on the other side of the room. 12:16. 

He still had forty-five minutes. What was he supposed to do until then? _Well, I am pretty hungry._ With that, Harry retreated down the stairs and into his kitchen, determined to find something good to eat. 

Before Harry had left the day prior, Louis had told him that he would talk to Zayn about coming and checking the house out. After about an hour of his nap, his phone vibrating in pants pocket had woken him up with a text from Louis saying that he should come to the house at one, and that he and Zayn would meet him there. Harry hadn't known what to expect. Yeah, he'd agreed to help Louis, but maybe he just didn't expect it so soon? It confused him, but he fell back asleep restlessly regardless. 

Now, as he munched in his kitchen, he was at a bit of a loss of what to think. Of course, he was excited to meet Zayn, but nervous all the while. The last time he had met someone – excluding Louis, which was a bit of a different story – well, he couldn't even remember. This was like a taste of what he was about to experience in school. What if he was complete rubbish at making new friends? What if Zayn didn't like him? What if Zayn hated him so much that he convinced Louis to stop hanging out with him, so the he had no one when he went to school? Then what? 

He shook his head of his petty thoughts, the stupid what if's. _Get a grip, Harry._

Pushing those questions from his mind, Harry continued to eat, instead thinking about what he knew about Zayn in order to make a good impression, so that all of those doubts _wouldn't_ happen. 

Time elapsed, and soon enough, Harry found himself standing in from of the Serendipity House yet again, his surroundings just begging to be drawn. But now was not the time for that. 

The stairs let out their usual creak as he steadily climbed up, pausing on the balcony ousted the door before entering, just staring at everything around him. That was the thing with people, though. They took the simple things for granted - the things that too often seemed irrelevant or unimportant at first glance. Harry made sure to absorb everything around him while he was up here though, out in the woods. He made sure to not let those things pass him by. 

He breathed in heavily, taking in the free, pure forest air, relishing in the feeling that was just so rejuvenating in itself. _Breathing_. Harry wondered for a moment if that was on the door. He stared out at his surroundings that he had become so familiar with in so little time, and noticed that a butterfly had settled on the handrail. Its wings unfurled to show a mass of colors and patterns of symmetry unlike any other. Its individuality made it unique. Harry thought for a moment, as lame as it was, that maybe he was kind of like that butterfly, trying to find its way though a new place, going to somewhere completely foreign. 

Harry willed his eyes away from the scene before him and pushed open the door to the house, turning yet again to study his friend's door for the umpteenth time. Crawling up onto the ceiling was a word in pure, pale yellow. _Breathe_. A grin broke out on Harry's face at the finding of the word, and he paid careful attention to those surrounding it. _In, out, relax, easy, strangled_. All of it's neighbors managed to relate to it. That just made Harry's admiration for Louis grow even more. 

The bright blue eyes flashed in his mind just as his own fell upon the word simplicity in a faded orange, near the bottom of the door. As soon as he went to study it further, he was met with the pair of azure eyes yet again, although this time, it was due to the door swinging open to reveal Louis, followed by who Harry knew to be Zayn Malik. 

Louis had never really specified _when_ he was going to show up, but Harry hadn't really thought it would be so soon. Unless he had spent more time dawdling then he had though. A quick glance at the clock ticking on the wall proved him to be right. He had spent fifteen minutes just observing the place he had already visited so many times. It was just that intriguing. It seemed to Harry that there was always something to do, something new to learn, something else to see. Everything about the place was just so captivating that it seemed as though no matter how many times he looked at something there, a new thing would arise. 

"Harry!" Louis exclaimed. 

"Oh, uh, hey, Lou!" Harry mumbled back, still in shock of the door swinging open right in front of him. 

"You trying to get hit by the door today, mate?" 

"Yes, Lou, because getting smacked in the face by a door is my entire life's goal," Harry drawled in return. 

"Hey, man, I know where the vibes are at. It's either that, or you were so anxious to see me again, that you decided to wait by the door, in desperate hopes to see my face as soon as possible," Louis grinned, his voice over-dramatic and high pitched. 

Harry reached forward and grabbed his friend's arm, feigning being faint. "I'm just positively swooning." They both burst out laughing at their little skit, cackling almost obnoxiously. Harry's smile was wide and mood overjoyed. 

That is, until he remembered Zayn, who he thought would be completely confused and rather left out of their little spiel. And scared. Instead, he found the dark haired boy extremely zoned out, his eyes fixated on the structure of the roof, his expression one of awe. _If the outside impresses him that much, wait until he sees the inside._ It seemed as though the banter between this stranger and his best friend was totally normal for him. Either that, or he was just too distracted to even realize what they were saying. Zayn's hand gripped the railing, his eyes scanning the entire forest laid out before them, looking like something that he had probably never seen before. 

"Well, come on in then, mate," Louis said cheerfully, addressing Zayn, who was snapped out of his trance brought on by his surroundings. 

"Yeah, of course," Zayn mumbled, his eyes flicking around, still momentarily confused. Harry stepped backwards into the room before turning and moving into the middle of the house so the other two boys had room to come inside. 

"Well, this is it," Louis said casually, as if the treehouse itself was nothing special at all. Harry was looking at him like he was an idiot, and Zayn spun around in a 360 degree circle in attempts to get a view of the entire thing. 

"This is _it_? Understatement of the century, mate," Zayn exclaimed after a long pause involving him staring wonderstruck at the structure he was in. "How'd you manage to hide this from me for so long? You right prick!" 

Harry, at first, was unsure whether or not Zayn was joking, as his personality was still unfamiliar to him. But then he watched as the unimpressed expression on Louis' face transformed into a huge smile, and he barked out a laughed as he clapped his hand on Zayn's shoulder, whose smirk wavered when a grin broke out onto his face as well. 

"Love you too, Zayn," Louis said, and Harry cringed internally when the piercing jealousy ran through him. He hated the feeling and pushed it back knowing that he truly had nothing to be jealous of at all. He forced a smile onto his face, and it grew genuine when Louis stepped away from Zayn and wrapped his arm around Harrys' shoulders casually, giving them a squeeze. "Help me give him a tour, Haz?" 

Harry's grin was just the answer. *** 

As it turned out, Harry _really_ had no need to be jealous, as he and Zayn hit it off straight away. He was kind of shy towards Harry at first, a bit closed off. But the more they talked, they found out that they shared many common interests and enjoyed a bit of a banter with each other. They laughed and talked, and Louis seemed genuinely happy that his two friends were getting along so well. 

At one point, after they had explained everything to Zayn – including what they used the treehouse for, as well as how Harry met Louis and how they became friends, as well as some of Harry's back story – the trio sat in three of the four chairs in the house, all turned away from the desks, their backs facing the walls. All three pairs of eyes were transfixed on the door spangled with so many words, an amount that almost seemed uncountable. 

The blue eyes admired his own work casually, occasionally leaving the door and studying his friends' expressions and features. He'd follow their eyes to see just what cluster of words they were staring at. 

The green eyes were back where they had left off before, deciphering just why _simplicity_ was surrounded by words like _about, busy, easiness,_ and _cluttered._

The brown eyes seemed to move everywhere, overwhelmed by the word count, trying to look everywhere at once. 

"How many are even up here?" Zayn exclaimed after many moments of silence, forcing his eyes away from the abundance of words that was so captivating, yet so hard to focus on one part of. It was just _abuzz_. 

"To be honest," Louis started, "I'm not sure. At all. I had a count when I first started putting words up, but I gave up around twenty-five, so… a while ago." 

"Jesus, it's got to be more than 100." 

"No way, Zayn, way more than that! Look at all of them," Harry claimed. 

"Well, don't even think about asking me to count them," Louis stated, crossing his arms dramatically, his eyes flicking up to the words crawling onto the ceiling. 

Harry reached out and squeezed his knee before he even realized what he was doing. He caught himself and just laughed. "Don't worry, Lou, wasn't counting on it." 

"Good," Louis responded jokingly with a cheeky undertone that was barely noticeable. Zayn rolled his eyes before they fell upon the window where the curtains were pulled up, the sunshine streaming in. 

"Can I go take another look outside, Louis?" Zayn asked. 

"Go ahead, mate," he responded cheerfully, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder, totally prepared to wait and relax. Zayn mumbled his thanks and slipped out the door. The two had showed him the porch before briefly, but Harry understood him for wanting to have another look. Harry saw his figure press against the side of the house, and he knew that his legs were hanging off the edge, similar to the way Harry sat when he first came and drew the pond. 

"Thanks, Haz," Louis said quietly after a long pause that they were both afraid to disturb. A little bird landed on the opposite windowsill, peeped once, and flew away. "Thanks?" Harry questioned. "Err… you're welcome, I guess? What have I done?" 

Louis laughed lightly and melodically, his head falling to rest on Harry's shoulder momentarily. "You helped me, you twat!" His tone was teasing, but sincere. "Remember why I asked you to even come here today? Zayn? No?" 

"Ohh," Harry let out before he could stop himself. "Right. Well, I mean, how did I even help? I just kinda talked a bit. Basically, I just stood around." 

"Are you kidding me, Harry? I would've felt like an idiot if you hadn't been there. Embarrassed, I guess. You're just supportive, and that… helps." 

The pure sincerity of Louis' voice made Harry shiver, and he subconsciously shifted under the weight of Louis' arm around his shoulder. A rush of emotions ran through his body, his feelings playing tricks on him. Many of his doubts from the night prior were washed away in a wave of honesty. His eyes briefly found the word _trust_ on the door before stuttering out an embarrassed response of, "Well, I've got something good to be supportive of." He smiled bashfully, curls falling over his eyes when he looked away, flustered. 

Louis said nothing in return, but he rubbed between Harry's shoulders softly in thanks, their two chairs pressed extremely close together. They sat in another silence, this one the slightest bit awkward, Harry wondering if he did anything wrong. Was that too forward of him? Harry was unsure of the boundaries of their friendship, as well as how his reactions should be to some of the things Louis did or said. This whole friendship was unfamiliar to him, and he wondered whether or not his friendship with Zayn would flourish to something near the level of this one. He knew it would never be as strong, because he already bonded with Louis so much, and felt completely at ease in his company. Him and Zayn had hit it off pretty well, though. He liked Zayn a lot, too. He seemed like the kind of guy he could just sit in silence with, but it would still be relaxing, not boring. His mystery made him interesting, and Harry admired that about him. 

Harry, Louis, and Zayn spent most of the afternoon in the treehouse, still discovering things about each other, and Harry was just alight with happiness that he had miraculously found such great people in a small town where he thought he'd have no one. The more time he spent with the two boys – Louis especially – the more comfortable he became. He would forget about having to hide things and he didn't hold back. He expressed his love for animals and sappy movies and music, the latter two being an interest the other two boys had as well. It led to many a conversation that captivated them all, along with discussions about their favorite movies, not only the sappy ones, and artists and songs. While their taste in music did differ, they shared many things in common, and more than once did Louis and Harry make knowing eye contact about their still unshared guilty pleasure. Zayn himself let out a few notes of an old Usher song, Harry's mouth falling open in surprise at the beautiful voice that spilled from his mouth, and Louis looking unfazed, as the talent his best friend held was one he had heard, but didn't ignore, many times. 

By the time dusk settled in, all three boys were laughing over stories they shared, from recent tales – one of them being Harry's reaction to Louis' retelling of the Zayn-finding-out-story – and old ones. Some of the tales Harry shared about Cheshire and his old town made his insides twist with a feeling he didn't like. The more he thought about it, the less he missed the pain he'd endured while back in Holmes Chapel, but it worried him to an unbearable extent of what was to come in Doncaster. Just how fretful should he allow himself to become? But since being in the company of his two new mates was so diverting and amusing, the thoughts of distress, as there was always another story about their antics bringing a grin to Harry's face. Of course, he did feel for the poor teachers that had to put up with the two crazy lads, but he could care less because of what great tales they made. 

"Actually, one time," Zayn started, "it was near the end of the term, Louis and I, along with our bud Stan, went up on the roof of the school and egged all of the cars. One of our finest moments, if I can say so myself." His expression was proud and he shared a high five with Louis briefly, grinning widely. 

Harry's face was probably one of awe, incredulity, and pride. He laughed loudly and asked, "How much trouble did you get in?" 

"Since there was only two more days of class, we got away with a detention and cleaning up the eggs," Louis answered. "After the affect had worn off, naturally." 

Harry nodded, still giggling slightly. "Of course." 

"Hey, Z's my P.I.C, even if he seems a bit moody." There was a pause before he added with an insightful tone to his voice, "He can be though." 

"You suck," Zayn grumbled. 

Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry in a way that read see? "In your dreams, love," he shot back, not missing a beat. 

Harry watched their banter with a smile on his face, dimples present. Their little fight seemed completely natural, and Harry was glad to see that Louis acted no different around other people than he did around him. More of his doubts vanished the longer his spent with him. The conversations the two lads were having faded into the background with the birds and the rustling of the leaves in the wind as he admired Louis' and Zayn's features. The sunlight streaming in, the last of it, really, from the setting sun made the light shine just right, the dust particles visible in the air, the stream of light illuminating the faces of the two boys next to him. 

Louis' eyes were stunning in the fleeting light, a blue so deep and bright, Harry didn't want to look away. He did, of course, he wouldn't want to get caught staring, but it was as if he was drawn to the azure orbs that almost looked as if they had specks of yellow in them because of the glow coming in from the setting sun. His caramel fringe swept messily over his forehead, a smile accentuating his features as he spoke jubilantly to the dark haired boy on his other side. Zayn himself looked just as content, appearing completely at ease and pleased in the new environment that was the Serendipity House. His deep brown eyes shone an almost hazel color as he tipped his head back to let out a loud laugh. 

"Actually, Harry, I'm a bit of an artist myself." 

Zayn's words snapped him out of his observations immediately. 

"Really?" Harry exclaimed, genuinely surprised. He shook his curls out of his eyes and pushed all thoughts of Louis' beauty away as he focused his attention on his new friend, who, as it turns out, as another common interest with him. 

"Yeah. I mean, it's nothing like you, or so Louis tells me, but I mean, I just make doodles and caricatures. It keeps me occupied, quite fun. I'd love to see your stuff though, Harry." 

Zayn's interest was yet another smack in the face. Louis' had been one essentially, but he had never expected anyone to seem so truly intrigued with his work. "Oh, um, I…" 

"If you don't want to break 'em out, it's fine, really." 

"Come on, Haz," Louis said reassuringly, patting his shoulder. "I'll grab your folder." 

Harry smiled and nodded, "Okay." Louis' words were soothing, like immediate comfort, showing him that he had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. 

Harry could tell just by Zayn's personality, but he just had his irrational fear that prevented him from being completely comfortable with someone right away. For some reason, the blue eyed boy just made him comfortable. He was a pacifier. Louis squeezed his shoulder before lifting his arm. up and off of him, standing to find the manila folder with Harry's name messily scrawled on it. He slid behind Zayn's chair and pulled open one of the drawers, taking out the folder that only held two drawings. He handed it to Harry with a soft smile, letting him do the work of taking them out and showing them to Zayn, who sat patiently, watching with interested eyes. Carefully, had slipped out the first sketch of the pond, smoothing out the creases where he had regrettably folded it. He handed it over to Zayn nervously, reaching across Louis' lap. His brow furrowed as he tried to force himself to not be worried. No matter how hard he tried, he always ended up being concerned with what other people thought of him, no matter how much he told himself to brush it off. He'd always wanted to be the kind of person who didn't care what other people thought of them, but he just didn't think he was. Harry bit his lip in anxious waiting to hear Zayn's reaction, and he jerked in his chair when he felt the arm drape over his shoulder once again and a voice in his ear. 

"Calm down, Curly, Zayn loves you already. He's just not always the most… expressive." 

Harry released his lip and drew in a deep breath at Louis' words, his head falling to rest on Louis' shoulder unabashedly at this point, for once not caring what he thought. Surprisingly, Louis just tightened his grip on Harry's upper arm. Maybe he was just as touchy-feely as Harry was himself. Smiling faintly, Harry let himself take another deep breath, just a little less anxiously awaiting Zayn's critic on his sketch. 

Zayn probably stared at the piece of artwork in his hands for two minutes straight, just admiring each shadow and shape, stunned at how Harry could truly make the pond come to life on paper. He was completely in awe. When he finally let out, "Wow," he just barely caught a glimpse of Harry's curly head lifting off of Louis' shoulder. The green eyes moved to meet his own, showing excitement and nervousness at the awaited full response. "Harry, this is amazing. I mean… wow. Puts me to shame, that's for sure." A shinning grin lit up Harry's face, pleased with the compliment. Well, more than pleased, really. He was ecstatic to hear such a response. "And don't say that's not true, because believe me when I say I couldn't do anything like this. What time did you draw this? The shadows are brilliant." 

The mere interest in the shadows of the picture made Zayn and Harry dive head first into a conversation about artwork that Louis sat back and listened to contentedly, exuberant that his newest mate and his older one were getting on so well. Harry expressed his thanks many times throughout their words, always humble, and Zayn and Louis were always insistent. 

Somehow, their conversation veered off course again, their jokes, and laughing, and ease, and confidence exposing more sides to Harry that they hadn't seen yet. He was appreciative, bold when he wanted to be, rebellious – or used to be (Zayn and Louis were keen on bringing that back) – and dirty, too. Louis hadn't expected it at all, based off of his shy, at first self-conscious demeanor, but it made him love Harry even more. The amount of sexual innuendos in their conversation of three was one that should probably be illegal. The energy in the treehouse was lively and it just seemed to not want to go down. When Harry checked the clock on the wall after many a chat, he was completely caught off guard. 

"Shit, guys! Check the time!" he exclaimed. 

"Damn," Zayn let out. "We've all got to get going." 

The three said their goodbyes, Zayn promising to return to the house soon, and heading to look off of the porch one last time, leaving Louis and Harry alone after giving him a friendly hug. 

They stood by the wordy door, eyes meeting, but saying nothing. After their momentary pause, Harry spoke up, a cheeky tone in his voice, "Tomorrow then, right, Lou?" 

"Tomorrow," Louis proclaimed loudly. 

They shared a tight hug, basking in each others' warmth a little longer than a usual embrace, but neither minded at all. 

Before walking out of the treehouse, a hand on the door, Harry mumbled, "Later, Louis." He left with a smirk on his face and threw in a wink just for good measure.


	5. Chapter Four

Looking back, the beginning of Harry's summer lasted forever, even though it hadn't felt that way originally. The warm afternoons on the porch with Nick and Will were ones well spent. But now that he had Louis and Zayn, well, those days on the porch just didn't seem as great. Time flew past him like a jet plane on a cloudless day. Before he knew it, he'd already gone school shopping and gotten clothes for the new year, and it was the second to last day of his summer, and he was mentally preparing himself for what was to come in less than forty-eight hours. He couldn't say he was _panicking_ , but he was nervous, and the only the time those nerves seemed to calm down was when he was around Louis, because Louis gave him confidence. Louis made him feel safe and at home in the still unfamiliar place. 

Somehow, he found himself in the Serendipity House yet again, scanning the countless words for the one that seemed to fit him the most for that day. There was a lot that could suit for that moment, though. Of course he was experiencing a lot emotions, especially when he was in the Serendipity House, but today more than ever. He was _anxious_ , a deep, almost murky purple on the door, written in a messy font that changed often. It was like Harry couldn't wait for school to come, but he was dreading it all the while. He was _relieved_ at the same time, which really wouldn't make much sense to anyone other than himself. It was small and pale coral on the door, its font loopy and spread out. It seemed as though even though he was anxious for what was coming in the near future, he was relieved to be back at the treehouse now, while everything was still all play and no work or nerves. 

Sighing, his gaze broke away from the door, and he sat down in one of the chairs, his hands begging for a pencil. His issue: out of inspiration. It was as if everything in the house was just _asking_ to be drawn, but nothing in particular was catching his attention. Harry even dug out his folder, along with a piece of paper and a pencil, but nothing was grabbing him. He stared out the window, at nature, and only snapped out of his trance when a certain pair of blue eyes popped up in front of him. 

"Boo!" Louis exclaimed. 

Harry let out a loud, surprised scream, jumping. "Shit! Fuck, Lou! You scared the crap out of me!" 

Louis sniggered. "That was the goal, Styles. You looked far too transfixed in your thoughts, and now is not the time for that. Technically, it is still summer. We still have two more days. Lighten up! It's time for fun, love." 

Harry's insides twisted at _love_. Louis didn't know at all what his voice and his bright blue eyes did to Harry. He smiled anyway, sticking his tongue out childishly and playfully. "Well, sorry Lou, apparently thinking is illegal now." 

"Oh, no, Haz. Of course, not. I do it all the time; I'm a writer. Although, I am quite the rule breaker," Louis added cheekily. He donned an impish look, his hand running through his tousled, feathery locks. "It's only thinking about serious things." 

"How do you know I was thinking about serious things?" Harry questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Come on, Haz," Louis called louder than he was speaking before, rounding the porch and entering the house. He slung an arm over Harry's shoulder and he continued to speak. "We've been seeing each other every day for more than two weeks. I think I know your facial expressions by now." He laughed lightly. Being honest with himself, Harry was surprised that Louis could read him so well. Of course, they were best mates, or at least, that's what Harry considered them, and Harry could do just the same for Louis, but it still took him by surprise. It always did, when someone took the time to get to know him so well. But really, could he expect anything less of Louis, as he had already done so much and divulged into the life of Harry Styles fully? "Plus, not many would stare at the window dramatically, looking downcast, thinking about, like, sunshine and rainbows or whatever." 

Harry let out a soft, halfhearted laugh, his arm curling around Louis' waist and pulling him in for a hug. "Hey, Lou." 

Louis hugged back, surprised, but content nonetheless. "Hey, Hazza. What's up babe?" 

Harry sighed, nuzzling into the junction of where Louis' neck met his shoulder, slightly awkward at their height difference. His lips pressed against the skin where Louis' V-neck didn't cover as he mumbled in his deep voice. "Is it bad that I'm," he paused, trying to find a suiting word that made him sound less wimpy, but failed, " _scared_?" 

"Scared, Hazza? Scared of what?" 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his hold on Louis' waist only tightening as he tried to figure out a way to word his sentence without sounding stupid or pointless, or not making sense at all. Sometimes he envied Louis for being a writer, for always being so eloquent and being able to express what was on his mind through words. Harry didn't work like that. "Of everything… I'm just afraid of what people are going to say, what they're going to do. I can't – I can't really explain it." He let out a strangled noise of exasperation, opening his eyes and lifting off of Louis' shoulders, tugging his hands through his curls. He froze when a pair of softer, tanner hands landed on his. 

"Don't pull your lovely curls, Haz, it's no use. How about you do something to help you calm down. Have any tricks up your sleeve?" Louis asked in a calming tone, his voice soothing to Harry, who immediately dropped his hands and stuffed them in his pants pockets to keep them idle. 

"Well, I kind have a combination of two that'll always do the trick, but I'm not sure if we have all of it at hand, being in the woods and all," Harry mumbled out, his eyes trained on the ground. 

"Go on then," Louis encouraged. "Might as well tell me, I'll see what I can do." 

"It's usually having a jam session to some relaxing music and drawing something up. I just don't really know how we're gonna do that if we haven't got any music and I'm completely out of things to draw. I was thinking about it earlier and I just… can't think." Harry knew he sounded like an idiot with his poorly put together sentence, but he was frustrated and stressed, so really he didn't care all that much. 

"Actually, Harry," Louis started slowly, "you're in luck, because I never go anywhere without music. I don't know if you looked here when you scoured my treehouse like a hawk, but in the back of this drawer there happens to be an old iPod that I keep up here when it gets a bit lonely and I need a tune, as well as some portable speakers. I've always had 'em up here. Just haven't taken them out in a while, well, because it hasn't been so lonely since you've come around." Louis bent down and pulled open the drawer, retrieving his music, and a huge smile lit up Harry's face despite all of his distress. Knowing that he gave Louis good company was one of the biggest compliments he could be given. 

"Can I take a look through it? I know you've got your music taste in the right place, which is good. We've had this discussion… a lot." 

"Too many times." 

"Hey, there's never too many conversations about music." 

"I guess you're right." 

Harry scrolled through the iPod, looking for some soft melodies to float through the air, momentarily forgetting that he had to find something to draw as well. Stopping when a familiar name was on the screen, he clicked on Ed Sheeran, playing a melancholy song that almost matched his mood, regardless of being with Louis. As the open chords on the guitar to "Autumn Leaves" rang out in the treehouse, Louis sent him a brilliant grin from where he had sat down in one of the chairs. 

"A Sheeran fan, are you?" Louis asked, sitting cross-legged in the large seat. 

"The biggest," Harry responded, setting down the speakers as he too, took a seat. His head lolled back and his eyes fluttered shut as the music spoke to him, content and peaceful for a few moments where any and all thoughts were whisked away from his mind. He hummed softly to the tune, but not too loudly, still the slightest bit self conscious about his voice. 

"Sing for me, Haz?" Louis asked, having picked up on his humming, regardless of how quiet he thought he was being. 

"I, uh, but, don't you have to sing, too? I mean, I would, but-" His response was spluttered and unsure, his voice cracking once. 

"I will, Harry, I promise, but right now can you please sing for me? I'll go next, I promise." 

Harry sucked in a deep breath and sighed heavily, giving up on being resistant. What did he have to lose anyway? With Louis, it was almost as though he couldn't deny him anything. Plus, there was an aching desire within him to sing along with the soothing voice that currently sang the song so sad, with lyrics filled with loss. "Fine, fine," he mumbled. Louis sent a supportive smile that he returned faintly, butterflies in his stomach at the combination of that sweet grin and the fact that he was about to sing for the boy that made him feel like himself again, after being trapped and put down for so long. 

He flipped his curls out of his eyes and took another breath of the sweet forest air. He began to sing just as the next line started. "Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you?" 

Weirdly enough, those lyrics managed to be a huge part of his thoughts. He wondered if someone, something, anything was looking out for him all the time. They were plaguing thoughts, ones like those. 

He didn't dare make eye contact with Louis. He instead look out the window where the leaves were rustling in the wind on the cool, overcast day. His voice started out soft and timid, but grew louder and more confident as the song progressed. He let himself forget about gaging Louis' reaction and just lost himself in the music, singing along shamelessly. As the song came to a close, he wasn't expecting Louis to join him and sing in a hushed tone, "Touch down, like a 747. Stay out, and we'll live forever now." 

Harry's eyes flew away from the window and locked with Louis' as soon as he heard his voice, and they stood like that for a few moments that seemed to drag on forever, just standing, staring at each other, not daring to say a word. That's all they did though. They knew better than to utter anything, because they both knew if that if a comment was to be made, it would be immediately shot down by the other, the positivity of it irrelevant. 

Their eyes stayed connected for longer than they should have, and when Harry finally tore his eyes away after becoming a little hot under Louis' powerful stare, he just fiddled with the many bracelets on his wrist nervously. His foot itched up his leg quickly and he coughed a little. "So, um, do you have any other suggestions of what to do? I’m a bit unsure of what to do for the second bit of my, erm... calming regimen. Well, uh, have you got an idea for what I should draw, because I'm out. I mean, we've got the tunes," Harry mumbled awkwardly after the unbearable pause they had just gone through. He gestured haphazardly to the iPod that was still plugged in playing another Ed Sheeran song that Harry hadn't bothered to identify. 

"Oh! Right! I mean, I have an idea, but I don't mean it in an… uncanny sort of way." Harry's eyes briefly found _uncanny_ in neon orange on the door, it's font wacky, and he smiled briefly. "Would you draw me?" 

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he met Louis' gaze once again, looking at him with a nonplussed expression. It shifted from shocked, to scared, to pleased in a matter of seconds and he was truly unsure of how to react. 

"Um, wow, all right. I'm just going to assume that that was a shoddy idea so… never mind!" 

"No, no, no!" Harry exclaimed, reaching out to grab Louis' wrist when he looked away. As soon as their eyes were connected again he forced himself to drop his hand and speak. "It was a good idea, really! It just caught me a bit off guard is all. Plus, I haven't really got too much experience drawing people, so this'll be, erm… interesting." 

A brilliant smile lit up Louis' face. "Excellent! I love watching people try new things! It's always so exciting! _Lovely._ " 

"Trying to put me under pressure, Lou?" 

"Of course!" 

"Cheers," Harry muttered, sarcastically angry. *** 

Harry found himself sitting at the desk where he had earlier placed his paper, gripping the pencil tightly and frustratedly, listening to Louis babble on and on about nothing. His drawing was infuriating him, and just couldn’t seem to get it right. How could he possibly do the boy who was so beautiful justice? Before he could stop himself, the angry words slipped right out of his lips, “Lou! Could you please stop talking? You keep moving and making noise and it’s kinda distracting!” He snapped hard, the pencil threatening to break in his fist, and he dropped it and lowered his head onto the desk. 

“Sorry, Haz. Are you okay, mate?” 

“Just...” Harry sighed, unable to finish his sentence, his words mumbled where his bush of curls sat still on the wooden surface of the desk. Harry could feel Louis’ concerned gaze on him, it burning holes into his head. Normally he was up for a challenge, to be pushed and to see how far he could make it, but with all of the stress he was under right now, he just couldn’t seem to focus on the task he had at hand, especially with the pressure of making sure that the Louis in his sketch turned out just as flawless as the one that was sitting before him, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Not really,” he muttered after a bit. 

“What’s going on, Harry? You can tell me, you know that, right?” 

Harry sighed again. “I-I know... I don’t know why the drawing isn’t working, I mean it _always_ works. Ugh!” He let out a frustrated groan, pulling at his curls again, unknowingly. Louis stood up from where he was seated, moving from where he was modeling – quite badly, really. He was moving far too much for Harry’s liking – and placed his hands over Harry’s, carefully removing them from his hair. He then gestured for Harry to stand and follow him over to the window with the view over looking the pond. 

“Remember what I said about that, Harry? It won’t help, babe.” 

Harry looked down. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He swept a loose curl from his eyes and leaned his arms on the windowsill of the house. “I just... don’t know if I can or not. It’s just... frustrating,” he finished with a lack of a better word. Louis studied Harry carefully, watching his expressions contort and change, his stunning green eyes moving quickly from one place to another, mesmerized by the view before him that never seemed to let him down. 

After the silence that was rather peaceful over awkward, Louis murmured, “Harry, do you wanna give it another go? I promise I’ll be a better model.” 

Harry smiled at the blue-eyed boy and let out a little laugh. “Okay, Lou. Whatever you say.” While his words were sarcastic, his grin said otherwise, and Louis was grateful to see that his friend wasn’t so grumpy. *** 

Starting with a fresh attitude toward the drawing of Louis most certainly improved Harry’s sketching. Louis was staying much stiller and Harry was actually pleased with his piece. Really, that was a rarity for both of them. There was a silence other than the soothing tone of Ed’s sweet voice washing over them. Rain started to pitter patter on the roof and a ghost of a smile etched itself onto Harry’s previously serious and concentrated face. He had a fondness for thunderstorms. They always rumbled loudly and clearly, as if they were proud of their overtaking of the sky, but then always left clear skies, puffy clouds, and green, happy plants in their wake. It was an odd admiration. 

Louis glanced over briefly, not wanting to break his pose, but allowed himself to when he saw the expression on Harry’s face. “What’s got you excited?” he asked, looking Harry’s up and down. 

Harry immediately looked down. _Am I...?_ “W-wha?” he spluttered. 

“Oh my God, Harry! Not that, you dolt!” 

Harry’s cheeks tinged pink and he looked away bashfully. “Sorry. I mean sometimes you just don’t notice, I mean you never know, ri-” 

“Shh...” Louis murmured, chuckling, a jubilant, amused grin gracing his face. “I understand, mate. What I was _really_ referring to was that half smile thing you had on your face.” 

“So you broke your pose?” Harry accused jokingly. 

Louis sighed and let out a chuckle. “Yes, dear Haz, I do apologize.” 

“It’s okay, Lou. I understand, mate,” he said, mimicking the his words from before. 

Louis frowned at him before saying, “But really! Tell me what you were smiling at! Avoiding the question, are you?” 

“Not intentionally.” 

“See, look! You’ve just done it again.” 

Harry sent Louis a cheeky grin before muttering, “The storm.” He glanced up at the ceiling, craning his head even though there was nothing to see through the hard wood. 

“I love thunderstorms,” Louis said absently, his eyes no longer trained on Harry, but instead on the window where heavy raindrops poured steadily from the sky. Harry hummed in agreement, twirling his pencil in his hand as the beat of the rain mixed in with the music. His eyes found Louis again, and a little voice in his head – at which he cringed – told him that one of the pluses to drawing Louis was that he got to stare at him as much as he wanted. He tried to push that thought away, but of course, it wouldn’t relent. 

“Lou?” Harry asked softly, his voice deep in comparison to the noises around the two. 

“Hmm?” he responded, reaching up to fix his fringe, but then stopping himself, realizing that Harry was still in the process of drawing him. 

“Can you turn back into your pose? I’m nearly finished.” 

“Oh, sure,” Louis mumbled in return, a yawn breaking his sentence, the rainy weather making him droopy-eyed. 

“Stay up, Lou,” Harry said cheekily in a hushed tone. 

“Tryin’,” was the muttered response. And all Harry did at the was giggle. 

The boys fell into another comfortable silence as Harry drew, occasionally singing along to some of the words of songs that were playing without noticing. He didn’t realize that Louis would perk up just at the sound of his voice. Drawing put him into oblivion. Normally, he might have caught onto some of the things he was doing absentmindedly, but his thoughts were eating away at him, too. It was like a constant war, back and forth and back and forth. It reminded him of the silly game girls used to play with flowers. He loves me. He loves me not. 

It was petty, the way they went back and forth. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment. _Don’t be a pussy. Come on._

“I have a confession to make,” Harry breathed. 

Louis looked up, fully prepared to crack a joke, but all motives to do so were dropped when he saw the look on Harry’s face, green eyes big and glassy. “You can tell me anything.” 

Harry looked relieved at the statement, but his body language was no less tense. He willed himself to take a deep breath. “I-I... I’m gay.” 

Louis visibly stiffened at the statement, his eyes going wide. “Oh,” was all he said.  “Yeah,” Harry muttered uncomfortably. He waited a few moments to see Louis had anything else to say, but he stayed silent, looking at the ground, panicked. “Okay, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I made you uncom-” 

Harry was cut off my Louis saying, “No, no, it’s okay. I just... wasn’t expecting it.” 

Harry had to hold back from exclaiming _Really_? and he instead nodded and muttered, “Erm, yeah. Sorry for dumping that on you. I just, I don’t know. It’s been on my chest for weeks now, and I just thought you deserved to know.” 

“Oh, yeah. Well, thanks for telling me, Haz.” His voice didn’t sound as bubbly and excited as it usually did; it was almost _scared_. 

Harry panicked. “This doesn’t change anything, does it?” 

“No! No!” Louis said quickly. “Of course not.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, I can lay off the hugs and stuff, if you want. If it makes you uncomfortable or squeamish or whatever.” 

“Harry, it’s fine, I swear. You’re still you, right?” 

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief, no long rigid. “Yeah, yeah I am,” he responded, even though the question was rhetorical. 

“It’s just-” 

“Just what, Lou?” Harry quipped, his tone suddenly sharp again.  “You’re not gonna tell anyone at school, are you?” 

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Here, too? Jesus, I thought times were changing.” Louis looked at him confusedly. “Yes,” Harry muttered tightly. “That was the plan.” 

“Harry, you can’t!” 

“I’m too tired of sneaking around and lying and pretending to be someone I’m not!” Harry roared, his emotions getting out of hand. “Do you know how many girls I’ve had to turn down? Do you know how many lies I’ve told? Do you know how many names I’ve been called? And you just walk into my life and tell me I can’t No... just, no.” Harry grew frustrated, standing from his charing and tugging a hand through his curls, despite what Louis said.  Louis stood, too, trying to get Harry to meet his eye, but failed. “Listen, Harry. I’m just trying to protect you.” Harry scoffed “ _Protect me_?” but Louis kept speaking. “There’s two boys at our school, Niall and Liam, and they get bullied and beat up everyday and-” 

“And what? You just sit there and let them take it, right?” He didn’t give nearly enough time for a response, but he knew the answer regardless. “Thought so. I can’t deal with this okay? Maybe I thought you were a little different, but I guess not. Friendship only goes so far, huh? I’ve dealt with this for too long, and ugh, I can’t deal with it now.” Tears formed in his eyes and he willingly let them fall, wanting Louis to see his pain. Moving his crying green eyes to Louis’ blue ones, he muttered angrily, “Oh, and feel free to pass it on to Zayn for me, because I know how much he’d _love_ to hear that.” 

He dropped his pencil to the ground, it’s clang against the wood ear-shattering as the chanted chorus of “Give Me Love” played in the background. 

Harry stormed out of the treehouse, ignoring Louis’ call of “Harry! Wait!” and leaving him alone to stare down at the sketch of himself, drawn with so much care and brilliance, it almost pained him to look at it. As soon as Harry’s body set foot out the door, he was drenched from head to toe, tears mingling with rain, silent sobs wracking his body. 

And as he walked down the hallway in the sea of people two days later, it was if he could already feel the eyes on him again. ***


	6. Chapter Five

The two boys were sitting in their own corner of the lunch room, secluded from the others, happily chatting with two girls who seemed to be only dropping by for a quick visit. The boys laughed at whatever one girl said, and she gave them both a kiss on the cheek and returned to what Harry assumed to be her normal table, the other tagging along. The boys sat close together, but not too close, Harry noticed. They spoke quietly, and Harry spotted many boys throughout the cafeteria glaring at them, their eyes menacing and cruel, not forgiving in the least. 

After just studying for those few quick moments, Harry immediately knew who they were. He decided to sit there, just on a whim. Taking his lunch with him, Harry shuffled over as inconspicuously as he could to that side of the lunch room. He tried desperately not to draw attention to himself. As if the new kid could do so. 

When Harry plopped himself down at the table, the two boys had been so previously involved in their conversation that their heads only jerked up at the movement of the surfaces that Harry created. Both pairs of eyes widened, blue and brown, and a look of fear painted its way onto their faces. “Hello,” he mumbled. “I’m Harry.” The two boys said nothing, only looking at Harry with judging eyes, wondering if they could possibly size up what kind of person he was by only sight. By the looks of things, they weren’t judging Harry to be a very good person. “You guys are Niall and Liam, yeah?” 

“What’s it to you?” a thick Irish accent rang out. Harry wasn’t sure which boy was which, and he was unsure how to respond to a person who so brutally shut him down. 

“Niall, don’t be rude. At least give him a chance,” the brown-haired boy said. Harry quickly matched the faces to the names and was relieved to see that Liam was going to at least give him a chance. “Um, yeah, that’s us,” Liam mumbled, redirecting his speech towards Harry, who sat awkwardly at the scratched table of the cafeteria. “Can we do anything for you?” His tone was polite, but still and closed off, as though speaking to Harry made him uncomfortable. 

“Not really. I was just wondering if I could maybe, um, sit here today. I’m new here,” Harry murmured, flipping his curls out of his eyes, exposing his wide, nervous green eyes. 

“I don’t know if that’s really the best id-” Liam started. 

“Is this some kind of joke? What’re you gettin’ at? I just want to eat me lunch!” Niall exclaimed, careful about his volume level despite his anger, not wanting to draw any more focus to himself. 

“No! No!” Harry exclaimed hurriedly. 

“Then why are you here? Just leave!” Niall roared, his fist slamming down on the table, the trays of food rattling. 

“Niall!” Liam cooed softly. “Shh... Niall, babe, calm down. Harry seems genuine. Let him talk, love.” 

“But-” 

“Niall.” 

Niall sighed and rested his head softly on Liam’s shoulder, his stunning blue eyes fluttering shut. 

“I haven’t got anywhere to sit, and erm, I just heard about you guys, and I wanted to sit here?” The end of Harry’s sentence came out sounding like a question, as though he was unsure of himself. That did not help him at all in his current situation, as it made Liam and Niall even more weary as to whether or not Harry was telling the truth about why he was sitting with them. 

“Okay, who’s put you up to this?” Niall asked, eyes snapping open at Harry’s unsure comment. 

“N-no one!” Harry exclaimed. Liam opened his mouth to speak, but Harry continued before he got the opportunity. “I swear! I’ve only met a few people here, and I’ve been quiet in classes. Really, honest, no one’s put me up to this.” 

The fact that the two boys sitting across from him thought he was lying made him squeeze his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to relax. It was as though all of his fears of what was to go wrong at school was happening. He had nowhere to sit, no idea where he was going, and no friends. He was royally screwed, and there’s was no one by his side to even ease the pain in the slightest. The fact that lying was a talent he never had also made him want to scream in these boys’ faces that he was just lonely, but he was pretty sure that would just make them angrier. 

Plus he knew for a fact that neither of them needed anymore attention on them. 

“Who’ve you met?” Liam asked skeptically, his fingers drumming on the table, his voice rumbling low and soft. 

“I-I can’t remember their names,” Harry muttered, his eyes flicking away from where the two sat, his fingers coming down to his lap to pull at a loose string on his t-shirt or to fiddle with one of the many bracelets on his wrist. 

“You’re lying,” Liam stated, staring at Harry dead on, catching his nervous tendencies. _No shit, _Harry thought irritatedly.__

 _ _“I-uh, Zayn Malik and L-louis Tom-mlinson,” he muttered, voice shaky as he said Louis’ name, his mind flashing memories of two days prior in his head. How could he have been so dumb to have thought that everything was going to be okay?__

 _ _

Harry sighed as Liam and Niall’s eyes widened at the two names that were just so typical. He knew they were typical; he knew that everyone at the school knew those names. He wondered for a moment if typical was on the door. His heart ached at the brief, beautiful times that poured into his mind, but he swiftly whisked them out. 

“Lovely,” was all Niall said. 

“Of course. They obviously put you up to this because they know you’re new, fit-” _They think I’m fit?_ Harry’s thoughts interrupted. Whether ‘they’ implied Niall and Liam or Zayn and Louis, Harry was unsure, but the thought of either spiked some interest in him. “-and easy to manipulate, so maybe, you could, I dunno, trick us into doing something.” Liam was breathing a little harder now, trying to keep his cool. 

Harry clenched his fists at his sides and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Why do you think I’m lying? As you obviously just saw when I told you who I met, I can’t lie! I’m just... I’m just trying to find someone like me whilst I can, because I already know that I’m not going to fit in here.” Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes due to frustration. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was not only scolding himself for crying in the lunch room where all of his class mates could see him, but just crying a lot in general recently. He sniffled, rubbed his nose, and tried to collect himself as a look of pure sincerity and apology worked its way onto Liam’s face, while Niall’s stayed cold and stoney. 

Carefully, Liam stood from his place next to Niall, his arm unwinding from around the blonde’s shoulder and moving next to Harry, placing an arm around him, ignoring Niall’s growled, “Don’t,” and the scowl being shot at him from another table. Regretfully, Harry trudged over to their side of the table and sat down on the opposite side of Liam, still apprehensive of Niall’s harsh glare. 

“Harry, I-” Liam started as soon as they were both seated, being cut off immediately by Niall. 

“Liam, can we at least go _somewhere else_ , so we don’t draw any _more_ attention to us? I mean, as long as that’s okay with _Harry_ , of course,” Niall gritted out through clenched teeth, still seeming highly skeptical and unsure of Harry’s position. 

Liam looked to Harry as to ask the question, and Harry nodded hurriedly straight away, wanting to get out of the crowded lunch room probably more than the other two boys. 

*** 

Harry’s breaths were strangled, and his appetite was no longer existent as he sat across from two pairs of inquisitive eyes in his new school’s library. His hands once again found their way back to the bracelets on his wrist, spinning them around or toying at some of the loose threads of those made of string. It stayed silent for a quiet for quite a while until a little cough came from Niall. Whether or not it was meant to break it intentionally, he didn’t know. 

“Well, um, I met Zayn and L-louis, yeah,” Harry muttered awkwardly, not making eye with the couple across from him. 

“We went over that, yeah,” Niall quipped shortly. 

Harry didn’t have the nerve to roll his eyes, and Liam had just given up on him at that point. He would deal with him later. 

“So, yeah it-” 

“Harry,” Liam interrupted. Harry looked up and met Liam’s soft brown eyes, warm and caring, not at all angry or mistrusting. “I believe you.” Those were the only words that Harry needed to hear before letting out a huge breath of relief and pulling a hand through his hair, just the smallest voice reminding him what Louis said about it. “I’m so, so sorry about jumping to conclusions with you - I normally never do that! I’m also apologizing for my rude, rude boyfriend over here who honestly isn’t ever like that.” Liam stopped in the middle of his sentence at Niall’s harsh glare that wouldn’t be there just for calling him rude. “What?” Liam said, starting to get a little irritated. 

Niall raised his eyebrows animatedly. “Boyfriend?” he whispered. 

“Oh, come on, Niall,” Liam sighed exasperatedly. “Everyone already knows, what’s one more gonna do?” Niall just groaned before burying his head into the crook of his neck, a long exhale escaping his lips. He just seemed tired, overall. Harry felt a little guilty in making him feel so exhausted with life. “Honest, Harry, I do apologize and both of us should have given you a bigger chance. You seem like a nice lad and you deserve a good time a new school.” 

Harry grinned genuinely at Liam at his kind words. “Thanks, Liam. And, um, Niall, you don’t really have to worry about me... knowing about that. I’m totally okay with that.” 

“Why should I trust you?” Niall shot back, his head coming up from Liam’s shoulder when he was addressed. 

_Am I going to do this?_ Harry asked himself. He thought back to what he and Louis had ended up fighting about in the first place. That’s what had driven them apart. Yes, he was going to do this. “Well, you see, erm, I’m- I’m gay, too.” 

Both Liam and Niall’s eyebrows shot up at that. Neither of them had been remotely expecting that. “You-you are?” Liam spluttered. 

Harry hardly nodded, slightly shaken up that he had just come out two times in a course of 72 hours. 

“Wow,” Niall breathed. “Okay, mate. I wasn’t expecting that one, um, I’m real sorry. I just - wow.” 

“Erm, yeah,” Harry responded, hands finding his bracelets for a third time, pulling at a stretchy rubber one. “I’m sorry I didn’t get that out earlier. So, are we okay?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, Harry.” 

Then Liam nudged Niall sharply in the side. He sucked in a breath and gritted out, “What?” 

“Apologize, you twat.” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Harry. I’m not usually like this, I promise. I just... wasn’t too happy bout comin’ back to school, and I think you noticed that not everyone is chill with us, and... who we are. So it just got me grouchy, and I thought you might’ve like, did somethin’ rude, so yeah. I kinda snapped.” Niall spoke brokenly and tiredly. “I promise, I usually don’t give a shit about anything, and I love life. I’m the most carefree motherfucker you’ll ever meet.” He smiled brightly, his braces flashing as his happiness shown through. 

Harry grinned back, thinking that maybe he was on the course to making some new friends at this school – ones who understood him. *** 

Niall and Liam ended up being in almost all of his final classes of the day, and it felt good to have people by his side who he could talk to and share with. What came with being with them was even more stares and muttered comments directed towards him than just merely being the new kid, but those things weren’t something he wasn’t used to. He was smiling more the second half of the day, though, and that’s what was important. 

Harry ended up inviting the two boys over his house after school in order to get to know each other better. Anne had smiled brightly at Harry when he walked through the door with the two boys trailing after him at the end of the day, and Harry immediately knew that his mother was mistaken with who these boys were. She thought she had figured out the mystery of Harry’s sneaking off during the summer, when really, this was just the opposite. 

The three of them hung out in Harry’s spacious room, the queen bed pushed up against the wall, sheets a deep maroon and comforter a dark navy. Band posters had slowly begun to appear on his walls as the course of the summer went on, Coldplay, the Temper Trap, and the Beatles all making their way up, Harry finally getting around to unpacking more. A few more pictures of him and Louis had finally found their way up onto his cork boards, and even one of them with Zayn. He tried to ignore Louis’ bright blue eyes on him as he led his friends into his room, telling himself that _soon_ , soon he would take them down. He just hadn’t had the heart to do so just yet. 

Quickly, the boys got to know each other, sharing stories and having a good laugh. They bonded almost as quickly as he and Louis did – _almost_. They found connections straight away, Niall and Harry enjoying joking around and laughing together, them being goofy together beneficial for their friendship, and Liam and Harry being able to laugh as well, naturally, but also be able to talk about more serious things and just converse casually. The three of them together just seemed to work. 

And Harry was actually kind of _happy_ at the fact that they were gay. Well, scratch that – he was overjoyed. It was like finally having someone understand everything he’s ever been through, and god, was that refreshing for him. It gave him hope, too. It showed him that despite their struggles, and the things they have to undertake everyday, and all the bullshit they get, they still manage to be in love, and they don’t let those things get him down. It showed him that things like that could still happen to people like him. Which honestly, he hated referring to himself like that, because he was no different than anyone else. Love was love, to him. 

After Niall had proceeded to raid his pantry of any food, the boys sat around eating and talking, Niall and Liam demanding to know the whole story of how Harry had even gotten the chance to so much _speak_ to Zayn and Louis. 

“Come on, mate! We deserve to know!” Liam exclaimed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands propping up his chin as he sat cross-legged on Harry’s blue bed. 

“It’s kind of a long story...” Harry mumbled, tipping his head back over the top of his computer chair’s back. He spun it around once on its wheels and sighed. 

“Well, come on then, Haz! Best start now if it’s so long,” Niall exclaimed cheerfully. Harry’s breath hitched at the nickname, memories of Louis running through his head like freight train, only there for a moment, but just as painful as if they were there longer, for even if they were there for a lengthier amount of time, it would’ve hurt to see him lingering, but short hurt because he wasn’t there long enough. No one seemed to catch his slip up, so he just sighed again. 

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, preparing himself for the pain that was going to come with telling this story. 

Harry started from the beginning, the very beginning, on that day where he was just wandering through the woods, looking for everything, and nothing at all. He spoke animatedly, but sadly, as retelling this tale made him ache for the friendship that was so brutally crushed. It wasn’t as though he didn’t miss Louis, oh yes, he missed Louis, but he _shouldn’t_. After he just dropped him because of _one thing_ about him, one thing that made him different, well, why would he want a friend like that? 

But he wouldn’t let those thoughts about Louis enter his story until he got to the point in time when those thoughts began to enter his mind. Right now, it was time to focus on the moments of the past, those moments where he was so happy and so alive, his only stream of consciousness was _Louis, Louis, Louis._ Harry let how jovial he was then pour out into the story, and he took his time, too. Unlike what Niall said, they really did have all afternoon and evening, as it was the first day of school, no work was assigned, and Anne was simply happy that Harry had made friends, so they were welcome for as long as they wished. 

Harry let out everything that he had thought as he told this story to Niall and Liam. He figured, why hold back? These boys were on their way to becoming his best friends already, so they deserved to know. Plus, they seemed like some of the most genuine people he had ever met, and he let all of the feelings that he had ever felt about Louis spill out, including the ones that he thought were being reciprocated. At the end of his story, he stiffened a little, telling how he cried and yelled and just how his heart broke as Louis told him not to share, how Louis told him to hold back. 

By the end, he had made it back to where they were now, him meeting Liam and Niall in the cafeteria, just simply because he thought he would fit in with them. 

“Wow,” Liam let out. 

“So that’s how you knew we were,” Niall commented, thinking back to lunch that afternoon. 

Harry smiled halfheartedly. “Yeah.” 

“So that’s your story,” Liam said obviously. 

“That’s my story,” Harry repeated dumbly. 

“I just can’t get it through my head that you were best friends with Tommo and Malik for two and half weeks,” Niall said, shaking his head a little. 

“Yeah, well I was, and I’m not any more,” Harry muttered shortly. 

“You’re in love with him,” Liam stated. 

Harry’s head snapped over to Liam so quickly he thought his neck might break. His eyes widened comically wide. “ _What_?” he spluttered. 

“Louis – you’re in love with him,” he repeated. 

Harry just blinked at him, completely in shock. 

“Okay, well maybe not in _love_ with him, but you definitely like him, yeah.” He gave himself an approving nod on his speculation and looked over to Niall for his opinion. 

He thought it over for a moment before saying, “Yeah, I could see it.” 

“What? Guys, what are you on about?” Harry exclaimed. 

“Come on, Harry. You know it, I know it, Niall knows it. It’s not an a bad thing, Louis is actually a really nice guy, well, before he kinda became a prick, but you guys were really good friends, and I can see where you’re coming from. It’s okay, Haz.” 

“But, I-” Harry started, his mouth in a wide “o” shape. 

“Harry,” Niall interrupted. 

Harry sighed, giving up on arguing against them. _Did_ he like Louis in that way? He had never really thought too much about it. When he was Louis he would just forget about his problems and all of his emotions and just be happy. But then again, there were times where he just wanted to be near him and be close to him. There were butterflies in his stomach and his skin tingled when they hugged. Now that he thought about it, maybe he did like Louis more than a friend. Maybe that’s why there was so much pain. Maybe that’s why he was having so much trouble letting go. 

Now his brain was starting to hurt from the rush of realization that had just flooded through him, and he stood up from his computer chair and flopped down next to Niall on his bed, curls just brushing the wall. “I need to have a bit of a think later,” Harry sighed after the long silence that had sat in the room. Liam just smiled down at him, despite the fact that his eyes had long fluttered shut. The three sat in silence for a few moments just the soft breathing through noses, the rustle of the comforter as Niall shifted under Liam’s arm, and the smack of lips on skin when Liam pressed a kiss to Niall’s forehead. 

“Sorry for pushing that on you,” Liam murmured quietly after a while, not wanting to disturb the peace they had created. “I just figured you knew, and I just wanted to see if I was right about it.” 

“Well you are,” Harry muttered under his breath. 

Niall just caught what he said, but mentioned nothing when Liam asked, “What?” 

Harry just shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He took a deep breath and mumbled, “Thanks, guys.” 

“For what?” Niall asked. 

“I dunno, everything. I mean, after lunch and everything you were just really nice and stuff. And I was the new kid, and I didn’t have any friends, and you just took me in. The way you talked to me was really nice today, and you’re just good lads. So thanks, I needed today.” Harry was cringing on the inside about how ridiculously ineloquent he sounded, and he immediately thought of how Louis probably would’ve giggled lightly at his spluttering and sent him a bright smile. But he was sincere, and Niall and Liam knew so. 

“You’re welcome, Harry, and I’m glad you’re not some spy dick that was sent by the pricks at school,” Niall joked. 

“Oh, but I am, Niall, and tomorrow I’m gonna tell everyone how Niall Horan and Liam Payne totally suck dick. Literally.” 

Niall let out his loud and boisterous laugh first, before the the two other lads joined in, Harry feeling at home again in Doncaster, wondering if the last little twinge of regret from storming out of that treehouse would finally evaporate now that he had two ace mates to lead him into this new school. 

*** 

When it was finally time for Liam and Niall to head out the door, Harry kindly saw them out, giving them both a hug before they strolled out to Liam’s car hand in hand. Anne was watching as nonchalantly as she could from the kitchen, smiling as her boy said goodbye to friends that appeared to make him very happy. Harry closed the door with a deep breath behind them, tired from his first day of school. He knew Anne had been watching him as he watched his friends leave, and that she had been obviously mislead on who exactly he was hanging out it. He also knew, it being his mother and all, that she would try to feign oblivion and to seem as though didn’t know who those boys were. 

“So, who were they?” Anne asked her son, smiling at him as he walking into the kitchen, knowing he would have to explain sooner or later. _Predictable._

“Oh, they were just some mates I met at school today. Nice lads,” Harry answered shortly. 

“So what were their names?” she inquired politely, trying to not seem too obvious about her motives. 

“The blonde, Irish one was Niall, and the taller one was Liam.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Anne sighed and just said outright, “Are they gay?” 

Harry raised his eyebrows at his mother’s forwardness. “Um, yeah, they are... how did you know?” 

“They were holding hands when they walked out the door, and they just seemed... happy together. I know what love looks like, honey. I’ve seen a lot in my years.” Harry smiled at his mum and took a seat next to her at their kitchen counter. 

“Is that why you befriended them, Harry?” 

“A little, yeah... I mean, I’ve only met them today, but I really like them. They... understand me.” 

“Only today?” Anne asked, surprised. 

“Um, yeah, Mum, it was the first day of school today.” 

“Who were you hanging out with the past to weeks then?” 

Harry sighed, running a hand through his curls, but not tugging, and wondering how he was going to go about telling this story twice in one day. It was draining, really. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. The memories that danced in his head made his chest tighten and his heart ache with longing. He just wanted it back, the sweet, short moments that were so blissful, that truly were _serendipity_. 

“I was hanging out with a boy named Louis and something happened between us where we’re not hanging out anymore, and it’s upsetting and I’d rather not talk about it right now, Mum.” His tone was stiff and rude, and as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he felt bad, it wasn’t his mum’s fault that any of that happened. He sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. I know you’re upset. When you’re ready to talk about it, you come to me okay? I’m glad you’ve made friends. How was you’re first day of school?” she asked, changing the subject that she now knew was sore for her son. 

A smile lit up Harry’s face before he launched into _that story,_ because despite all of the troubles and stress he went through today, and even more that he was anticipating, he was good. And right now, good was enough.

__


	7. Chapter Six

He didn’t want to. Honestly, he didn’t. He kept telling himself _no, no, no, you don’t need to go back._ But in reality, he _needed_ to return. To return meant getting rid of the nagging feeling that was eating away at him, making him squirm whenever he thought about Louis. It meant that he could finally get some closure and forget about it, because he knew his friendship with both of those boys was done. Louis and Zayn were both in the year above him, so none of their classes were shared, and it’s not like either of them had even made an attempt to talk to him. Why would they? Not only was he the new kid now, he was the new kid who was most likely gay hanging out with the two most hated boys in the school. Occasionally, he would spend some time with a boy named Josh, who only was Niall and Liam’s friend outside of school. He was brilliant, just a little bit scared of what people thought. It seemed that everyone was like that, these days. 

But his friends didn’t matter, no matter how much loved them. His friends weren’t stopping the nostalgia that came with thinking about the Serendipity House, or Zayn, or Louis, or the summer, or even that one fleeting glance that Harry had caught from across the lunch room, the bright blue eyes moving away from his green ones and over to Zayn who had been giving him a strange look concerning the panic that had briefly painted its way onto his face. There was a pang in his heart that quick moment of eye contact they made, but he shoved it off with a shrug when Liam had asked him what was wrong. It was obvious that he wasn’t convinced, but he made no attempt in digging further, seeing just where Harry’s green eyes led. 

Now Harry was fighting it. He would get upset and start to wonder if everything was the same at the house, and _of course_ nothing would’ve changed since he had last been there, but his imagination would run wild, and he couldn’t help but think if Louis had simply moved anything or put another word on the door since he had last visited. It was consuming his mind, making him lose focus in class and stay awake at night. 

It _shouldn’t be_. And that was the problem. The more he thought about it, the more he reflected on the conversation that had taken place in his room, that first day of school, Niall and Liam sprawled on his bed. _“You’re in love with him. Okay, maybe not in_ love _with him, but you definitely like him, yeah_.” He dwelled on those words, and the realization became more and more prominent each coming day. That’s why the ache was like being shot in the chest, and why the missing and the longing spread through his entire body like a snake’s poison, killing him in seconds. 

Though sometimes, he would feel like he overreacted at the whole situation, and that if he apologized to Louis, everything would be okay. Then again, even if he did apologize, he would still like boys. Nothing would change that, and there was no way that he was going to start lying again. Plus, who said apologizing was going to make Louis suddenly start supporting him? Harry didn’t know how many times he had weighed out the pros and cons of making an apology, but standing by his first decision of walking out into the pouring rain always seemed to win, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. Regardless, he couldn’t turn back time and change how he reacted to Louis’ repulsion at telling him that yes, he was going to come out to people at school, so really, it was just making him lose sleep and giving him a migraine that just wouldn’t seem to go away. 

*** 

_I’m going_ , Harry decided on the way home from school, the second week of classes already dragging out to feel like forever, even though it was only a Wednesday afternoon. He didn’t care that Louis might be there, although he’d prefer if he wasn’t. He just wanted to get his stuff and go, that’s it. He needed to look around, grab his manilla folder, and leave again; that would be enough. He would never have to go back, or at least, he hoped he wouldn’t. 

He walked through his front door, set down his messenger bag, and trudged right back out again, heading for the familiar path that he hadn’t been on in almost two weeks. The leaves were barely beginning to change, it being so early in September, but he couldn’t help but wonder how beautiful it would look covered in reds and yellows and oranges, painting path something entirely different. The pond sat idol, no sunshine there to make it glisten and shine. He walked slowly, taking his time, not sure whether he wanted to make this walk memorable, or whether he wanted to forget it forever. 

When he finally made it to the base of the tree, his eyes found its way to the sign stuck in the wood. He ran his hand over the plaque just as he had done the first time he visited the house, a quick flash of the bright and sunny day running through his mind, the curiosity, the excitement. He climbed the stairs, hand running along the smooth railing, an emotion that he couldn’t pinpoint coursing through him when he reached the top. Slowly, he pushed open the door with one last fleeting glance to the ground, realizing that he most certainly did not want to encounter Louis. 

“Harry!” _Of course_. 

His voice was surprised, but not angry. He turned around in his chair where he had been sitting, papers sprawled on the desk before him, no doubt another story in progress. “Why are you here?” he asked, his tone not mad, but taken aback, not expecting to see Harry at all. 

Harry avoided his eyes when he said,“To get my drawings so I can burn them.” His lies were obvious, foot dragging on the hardwood floors of the house. He could feel the blue eyes on him, burning holes into the top of his head. 

“Yeah, right,” Louis said disbelievingly, sharp voice. “You care too much.” 

Harry’s eyes snapped up at that, making direct contact with the blues that he couldn’t decide whether he loathed or loved in that moment.“Yeah. You’re right. I do care too much.” 

Of course he cared too much. That was his issue, or at least in this case it was an issue. He got too attached to things too quickly, making goodbyes that much more painful. He loved too easily. But Louis knew that. He wouldn’t need any more of an explanation. Of course he knew. 

Both stayed silent after that, Harry’s eyes dancing with pain, not being able to stand so close, yet so far away. He couldn’t love from this distance. He couldn’t touch from this distance. He couldn’t even socialize from this distance. He could barely even admire. 

He looked away, biting his lip, fighting tears yet again, not even entirely sure what feeling was overcoming him this time. It could be anything, really. With a deep breath and a couple of blinks, Harry moved to the other side of the house, getting out of the doorway. As he moved, Louis exclaimed, “What’re you doing?” He wasn’t patronizing or cross, just confused, his voice soft and even, the way that made Harry wish he could just sit back and listen. 

He didn’t let himself break though. He wasn’t going to soften just because he didn’t have something that he wanted. That he wanted _back_. “I told you already.” He barely paused before adding. “I’m getting my drawings.” He pulled open the drawer where he knew the folder would still sit, picked it up, and nudged it gently shut again with his foot. 

“You-you’re not actually going to burn them... are you?” Louis murmured, the pencil in his hand looking suffocated, his grip tight. 

“What do you think?” Harry snapped, a hand fisting in the fabric at the bottom of his shirt, gaze meeting Louis’ again, nostrils flaring a little. Louis’ eyes just widened, looking scared, but mostly just worried for him. He didn’t know how badly he had hurt him. He wasn’t expecting a lash like that. Louis opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Louis, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just...” Harry let himself trail off, suddenly unable to finish his thoughts, eyes welling up yet again, tearing his gaze away. A shudder involuntarily ran through him, and he willed himself to take a deep breath, moving quickly towards the exit, the jumble of words causing his eyes blur, unless that was just the tears. 

He pushed it open, but stopped when he heard, “Harry! Wait!” He could run, he could repeat what happened again, leaving whatever Louis had to say to nothingness, to never be known by him, but he knew the heartbreak would be worse if he left now. He paused with his hand on the door that creaked when it swung open, that had so many mysteries to decode on it. His stinging green eyes met Louis’ for the umpteenth time and saw the air rush in and out of his lungs as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry had no time to think of everything that he could possibly be apologizing for in that moment, so instead he grimaced painfully, wishing he could just fall into his arms and responded, “Yeah, Lou. Yeah, me too.” 

The last thing he saw as he left in a hurry was _mend_ on the door, its calligraphy perfect and color a healing green, completely missing whatever reaction painted its way on to Louis’ face. *** 

“You sure you just wanna sit and watch? It’s not gonna be very interesting, ‘cause it’s the first practice of the season. Coach just made cuts, so he’s gotta make sure everyone’s up to his standards, y’know?” 

Niall and Liam stood by his locker, waiting for him to finish sorting out the rest of the books he needed to bring home for that night’s work, arms barely brushing. Most of the students had already cleared out of the hallway, but Harry took his sweet time, not needing any unwanted encounters in the corridors or parking lot. He walked home, anyway. He shrugged his bag onto his shoulder as he closed the locker door. 

“Yeah, Ni, I’m sure. I mean, it makes more sense for me to just hang around for two hours than to go home and do nothing. I’d rather see what the whole football hype is around here anyway,” Harry responded, starting down the hallway towards the gym and locker rooms. Niall and Liam quickly followed, double checking that the hall was clear and linking their hands. 

“Okay then,” Liam said cheerfully, swinging his and Niall’s interlocked hands back and forth happily, enjoying their freedom as it came. 

“So I’m assuming you guys are ace at this, am I right?” 

“I try not to toot my own horn,” Niall started, Harry chuckling at his silly expression, “but, we are pretty great.” 

“I don’t know, Tommo and Malik are right _masters_. I guess that’s why they’re captains, yeah?” Liam commented. 

“That would make sense,” Harry teased, not really too bothered at the mention of Louis and Zayn, knowing that Liam had brought it up cautiously. He was okay though. “See you guys out there! Kick some major arse for me!” Harry exclaimed, laughing. 

They had reached the boys’ locker room, and Harry smiled at his two friends before walking out the door that led to the track and football fields. He had been out to the fields before, for gym class, but it was still an unfamiliar feeling, being out there. He looked around to see which field they would be playing on, and noticed a few other kids sitting in one set of bleachers. He walked over, looking down, not really wanting to make eye contact with anyone there. No doubt it was just girls there to cheer on their boyfriends. He sat down in the third row, right by the edge, in plain sight, but away from everyone else there. 

Setting down his bag next to him, he dug out his Canon PowerShot G1 X camera, flicking through a couple of photos and changing the setting. He placed it on his lap and found his sketchbook and pencil in his bag too. He stared down at the sketch of Louis that was on the top of loose papers that he had shoved in the book, memories flowing through him of that day like a wave, fast in, slow out. He looked down at the bottom corner of the page where HS was signed, disappointed that he didn’t write the date as well. It was too late now though; he would never go back on a signed piece. 

At a tap on his shoulder, he snapped his book shut, jumping in his seat. He turned to see just who was addressing him, confused as to why anyone would be talking to _him_ of all people. When he looked up, he knew exactly who it was, just a tinge of panic running through him, mingling with the confusion that was already present. _Eleanor_? He craned his head to see her, standing on the bleacher above him, hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Um, hello,” Harry mumbled awkwardly, taking his sketchbook and hugging it tightly to his chest, hoping that if he hid it now, there would be now way that she had seen its contents earlier. 

“Hi!” she said cheerfully, seeming not at all concerned with book in his hands. Eleanor stepped down to be level with him, carefully moving his camera onto the step in front of them. “I don’t think I recognize you,” she stated. Her voice was sweet and kind, and Harry couldn’t tell just yet whether she was always like that, or she was just laying down the sugarcoated bullshit just yet. He couldn’t help but feel a little unimportant in that moment though, because it meant that Louis hadn’t said one thing about him to his girlfriend in that whole time they were hanging out. 

He blinked hard before directing his thoughts back to Eleanor. “Um, I’m Harry Styles. I’m new here this year.” He couldn’t even plaster a forced smile onto his face he was so puzzled. _Why on Earth is she talking to me?_ he thought. 

“Oh, that’s why I didn’t recognize you! I’m Eleanor Calder. What year are you in, Harry?” she inquired happily, crossing her legs as though she had plans to stay, her knee high leather boots swinging. 

“Er, year 11, yeah.” 

“That’s just one under me! No wonder I really hadn’t seen you much. What are you doing sitting up here all by yourself?” Her smile seemed real enough at this point, not too far stretched, so maybe she was just nice. It wasn’t a mystery why Louis liked her. 

“Oh, well I don’t have too many friends yet, and the two that I’ve made – well, three, maybe, I dunno – are on the team, so I’ve just decided to wait out practice. I wanna see how good the team is.” Harry settled on telling the truth; what did have to lose anyway? He moved his camera off of his lap, folding his hands stiffly and placing them on his leg. 

“The team is absolutely brill! Louis, my boyfriend, and his mate Zayn are the co-captains this year, and we won championships last year. Now come on, you’re gonna come sit up here with a couple of my friends, you’ve got to meet more people.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet, Harry frantically looking down at his stuff, not sure of what to do. Eleanor caught on and giggled. “Well, go on then, pick it up! These girls are all _wonderful_.” She said her final words as though Harry could be interested in them, and he just sighed, inwardly cringing. 

He quickly gathered up his camera and sketchbook, clinging to it before tucking it into his messenger bag carefully, sticking in the camera as well. Eleanor smiled at him as she turned, starting up the bleachers to a middle area, where a group of three girls sat, chatting animately about who knows what. Harry looked down at the silver of the bleachers as he walked, only realizing that Eleanor sat down when her feet were no longer moving in front of him. When he looked up, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

“Harry!” one of the girls exclaimed. Another sent him a grin, and he returned it eagerly. The third just sat in confusion. 

“Hey, guys.” 

“So you do know him!” Eleanor exclaimed, feigning betrayal, though she wasn’t really mad. 

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t tell who it was from all the way over there!” 

“Yeah, me neither. If I knew, I would’ve told you.” 

“I know, I’m only joshin’,” Eleanor amended. She turned her head towards Harry, who was still standing awkwardly. She laughed as she said, “So do you actually know them, or are they just messing with me?” 

Harry chuckled a little, the air feeling just the slightest bit tense. “Oh, no, Niall and Liam introduced me to them the other day.” A smile lit up his face as he looked over to Danielle and Cher, even though his mind was reeling about whether or not this conversation was about to go downhill at the mention of his friends’ names. “Good to see you again, girls.” He was returned with smiles from both of them, the third girl seated in confusion. 

On that first day of school, when Harry had brought Niall and Liam back to his house, he had inquired just who those two girls at lunch had been. He remembered seeing them, Danielle, who he found out her name was, pressing a fleeting kiss to both of their cheeks, Cher, the other, smiling sweetly, meaning only well. The girls at school were only a little bit different than the boys. None of them seemed to care that they liked boys, in fact, they didn’t mind at all. After all, who didn’t want a gay best friend? While they were fine with the fact that they were gay, they just didn’t approach or talk to them, because nobody else did. Unfortunately, it seems that kids worked that way. Some were just afraid to be themselves, and get away from the “in crowd.” 

Danielle and Cher, well, they were different. They lost no respect for the boys when they came out of the closet, and by no means did it stop them from being their friends. Liam had explained to Harry that before Liam came out as gay and found Niall, he dated Danielle, who was always sweet and supportive of him, and in the end helped him with his struggles with sexuality. She stood by his side the entire time, as did Cher, who was just a loud, free spirit herself, and wasn’t afraid to show what she believed in. They had been there that day at lunch just cheering the boys on, wishing them good luck and telling them to stay strong. 

“Niall and Liam? Those are your friends?” Eleanor asked, her voice now a little less sweet and a little more judgmental. It was only the slightest, but Harry could just tell in her tone. 

“Erm, yeah. Well, I met them on the first day, and they were really ace, and great lads. So yeah, they’re my mates. Why?” 

“Oh, I just thought a guy like you could chose whoever you want to be friends with, especially at a new school.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows at her statement. Those weren’t the kind words he was expecting from her. “I’m sure you’re right, Eleanor, but I’m glad I found Niall and Liam, they’re a lot like me.” It was Eleanor’s turn to quirk her eyebrows, but she made no further comment on who his friends were. “Anyway, Dani and Cher here are friends with them, why aren’t you? I mean they talk and hang out every now and again.” He let those words slip out, his curiosity getting the better of him, as it often seemed to. 

Eleanor took a breath, wondering just exactly how she was going to answer this question. “Louis isn’t exactly their biggest fan, and they’re not really in the group of friends that we have, I mean, not that I let Louis run my life or anything, we’re just together a lot, y’know? I guess I would, but I don’t know, I don’t think they would like me very much, not that I don’t like them, but, um, yeah.” Her run on sentence was jumbled, and she quickly became flustered, a hand pushing the loose hairs away from her eyes, legs crossing tightly. 

Harry just let a smug little smirk etch itself onto his face, the grin growing wider as he sat down next to Danielle, the football team jogging onto the field, probably cold in their shorts and pinnies. 

“You showed her,” Dani whispered into his ear, tone mostly amused. 

“Sorry about that, I know she’s your mate, but I stick up for my friends.” 

“No worries, they deserve it more than she does.” 

Harry smiled again, watching as the boys made their way in front of the sideline for warmups, Harry trying to pick out who he knew. He spotted Niall immediately, his blonde head sticking out. Liam was at his side, and Josh nearby. Louis and Zayn were in the front, leading the exercises as the coach did attendance and flipped through his clipboard. He recognized a few other lads from his classes, but not many. Louis turned around during his jumping jacks to get a view of who was sitting on the bleachers, knowing Eleanor would be there. At the sight of the group, he shot a little wave towards them, smiling, but a wave confusion washed over his face most likely at Harry sitting along side them. He allowed himself to grin again, nonetheless. Liam threw a wink his way as well, moving his eyes as though gesturing to who he was sitting in. He smiled as he jerked his eyes towards Danielle and Cher, but knitted his eyebrows when he saw Eleanor, confused. Harry merely shrugged and grinned at him, laughing when Niall shoved him as they began their two lap run around the field. 

Practice wasn’t all that interesting in the beginning, mostly running and warming up with the keeper in goal, fending off – or at least attempting to – the shots of his teammates. He worked on a sketch that he had started the other day, bored, his pencil moving slowly, not too focused. His camera sat idle next to him, having worked its way out of the bag again, waiting to be clicked. Eventually, thinks started to pick up, when the coach called for a scrimmage, the team splitting up and starting their own game, some of the boys taking off their pinnies and reversing them so that the white was the more prominent color, not green. 

The team was _good_ , Harry noticed. Niall and Liam weren’t exaggerating in the least. If anything, they weren’t being boastful _enough_. Somehow, he ended up setting the sketchbook down and picking the camera up, lens following the ball, not even registering who’s foot he was following, amazed by the skill of the team. He was rubbish at footy. He followed Niall around the field at one point, watching as he dribbled all he way up, camera snapping as he kicked the ball straight into the goal, even from a distance, goalie missing by a long shot. The picture captured him with one foot high up in the air, leg out in front of him, ball soaring. _That_ would be a photo to remember. 

The response to his phenomenal goal was not what Harry expected in the least, although in reality he should’ve seen it coming. Loud groans were heard from the other team, even from up where he was sitting, but he did receive a clap on the back from a passing Josh, and a smirk and something whispered in his ear from Liam, who was on the opposing team. Louis, who was leading Niall’s team passed him by with a raised palm, giving him a loud high five and a big smile. Niall looked taken aback, but just let his braces show as well. As soon as Louis’ back was turned Harry raised his eyebrows at the blonde boy, who shrugged in response, looking just as confused as the next one. 

As the game progressed, he continued to snap photos, frowning at some in disgust, but a grin lighting up his face at others. He finally settled on one image that he captured, the ball just off the ground, foot just a centimeter away, minuscule pieces of dirt and blades of grass flying about it, making Harry fall in love, the picture being exactly what he wanted to capture, to now be able to depict it himself, with paper and a pencil. 

He quickly lost interest in the match that was unfolding before him, the sounds and coach’s commands being lost as soon as he picked up a pencil, getting lost in his own wonderland. From the moment he started it, the drawing was something he adored, never being happier about his mediocre photography skills. His camera was a good one though, so at least that helped his poorly taken pictures. 

He was jolted out of his work, not from Danielle’s watching eyes, as he had known those were the entire time, but bye Eleanor chirping out, “Is that Louis’ foot?” 

_Was it? Coincidences these days, really,_ he thought. “I dunno... is it? I was just kinda following the ball with my camera,” Harry mumbled out. He lifted his eyes from the paper to find Louis, spotting him right away, despite the fact that Eleanor pointed him out as well, thinking that he wouldn’t know his physique and body right away. Oh, her innocence that Louis kept for her so well. “Um, yeah. I guess it is his foot. I didn’t even notice. I was just taking pictures so-” 

“No! It’s a good shot, keep going. Looks like you’ve got a bit of talent.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice low and not very cheery, despite the compliment. Danielle chuckled next to him, and he jabbed her in the side playfully. 

By the time the scrimmage ended – Louis’ team winning – and cool downs finished, Harry’s back was beginning to grow sore from slouching over his sketchbook and his hand was starting to cramp. The drawing was nowhere near finished, but that didn’t displease him; he wanted this to be perfect, and if taking his time was going to make that happen, then time he was going to take. He cracked his back as he stood, then took his bag and hopped down the bleachers, heading where Niall and Liam stood, faces flushed from running around, still on a bit of a high from the first practice of the season. 

“Ni, Li!” he exclaimed as he jogged their way. “Great game, lads. You absolutely crushed it. Ready for the real deal Saturday then, yeah?” 

“I’m bloody pumped!” Niall exclaimed, throwing a fist up in the air. “And that goal I made really got the adrenaline going. It’s gonna be a wicked season then, lads.” 

“That was absolutely brilliant, Niall,” Liam said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with pride in his boyfriend. 

“Speaking of that goal... what was up with Tommo and acknowledging me?” Liam shrugged, not knowing the answer to Niall’s question, looking fairly perplexed himself. “Harry, have you got any idea?” 

“Well, I might’ve gone to the treehouse yesterday...” Harry mumbled, staring down at the red Converse on his feet. 

“Did you really, Harry?” Liam asked. Harry couldn’t tell whether his tone was supposed to make him scared, or if he was just curious if he was lying or not. 

“Yeah, yeah, I did. Needed a bit of closure. Don’t know how well it worked though, based on the fact I spent the entire practice hanging out with Eleanor Calder, who I had no idea was friends with Dani and Cher, by the way.” 

“Sorry, we kind of forgot to mention that, didn’t we?” Liam said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Harry merely shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’m just gonna stop thinking about it anyway. I did get my drawings though, so you guys can have a look later. I just, I can’t talk to Louis though, it’s just too-” 

Harry was cut off by a bubbly Eleanor popping up behind him, Louis in tow, their hands awkwardly entwined. “You know him?”she chirped. 

“Yeah...” Harry responded, glad that she cut him off where she did, because that sentence was going places that he didn’t want either of them to hear. 

“But I thought your only friends were Liam and Niall?” Eleanor inquired, cocking her head to the side, voice getting to become sickeningly sweet to Harry. 

“Well there’s Josh and Dani and Cher as well,” Niall muttered under his breath, Eleanor either ignoring him or not hearing the comment. Niall huffed, and Liam sensed his growing anger, placing a soft and caring hand on his hip, arm wrapping around his waist and giving a reassuring squeeze. 

“Well, um, just because they’re my mates doesn’t mean I’ve met absolutely no one else,” Harry muttered. 

“Who’d you meet first?” Eleanor pressed. 

“Eleanor, don’t,” Louis cut in, dropping her hand and putting one on Harry’s shoulder, just casually so. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll meet you over by the bleachers in a minute, okay, El? Let me talk to him.” She smiled unconvincingly, but nodded anyway and left with a kiss pressed to his cheek. “Sorry about that. What brings you here?” Louis asked, sounding stiff and not at all like himself, the small talk he was making suffocating Harry and making him seem like an idiot in front of his friends. That was most certainly wasn’t the Louis he had described to them. Then again, it wasn’t the carefree, loud, and life-loving Louis they described to him, either. 

“I think Eleanor covered that. Supporting my _friends_ , Niall and Liam,” Harry quipped, being just as frigid and forced as him, not wanting to come off as weak, or even worse, _lovestruck_. 

“Oh, well, hope you enjoyed the scrimmage, yeah?” 

“Um...” Harry started, not really sure of how to answer with out sounding like his best mate or a self centered prick. 

“Well, I’ll see you around, Haz.” 

“Yeah... yeah, okay,” Harry mumbled, the nickname Louis had shot at him making his stomach twist and his eyes burn, the memories a little too painful and the tightening in his chest just a little too much. 

Louis flashed a smile his way, pulled too tight and looking not at all natural, not at all himself, leaving Harry wondering what could possible make Louis change so much that it hurt. It hurt, now, because he felt even further away. How was he supposed to love from this distance if he couldn’t even _understand_ from over here?


	8. Chapter Seven

He had to tear his eyes away from the page sitting on his desk. The more he stared down at it, the more painful it became to look at. He both treasured and despised the piece of paper before him at the same time. Every time he looked down at the sketch that he drew at the football game, memories of the Louis that he didn’t even recognize flashed through his head. It almost hurt physically to see how different a person could be, just because of who they surrounded themselves with. The drawing was near perfect, one of the best things he had ever done, but he wanted to tear it to shreds and frame it all at once. 

Harry stomped away from his desk and flopped back onto his bed, knowing that he needed to start his homework, but not really caring that much in that moment. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Sometimes when he was around Niall and Liam he got _jealous_ , because they had exactly what he wanted. Love. But really, finding love wasn’t as simple as that and he knew it. They endured so much and fought for what they had, and it’s not like Harry could simply start a relationship with anyone he pleased if he wanted it to be genuine. Especially if the person he wanted that relationship to be with was acting kind of like a prick. Oh, and he had a girlfriend. It was getting harder and harder each passing day to even _watch_ from where he stood. 

He saw Louis in the halls, laughing and talking with people that Harry didn’t even know the names of, but whenever he smiled, it never quite reached his eyes, the crinkle at the edge of his blue eyes never appearing. Sometimes he had thoughts like, _if_ I _were the one talking to him, then maybe he would smile a little wider_. But then he would remember that the Louis he would be talking to wouldn’t be the Louis who was real. It wouldn’t be the Louis who wrote stories or had a treehouse in the woods or who had a door decorated with words. It wouldn’t be the person who he was falling in love with. He didn’t even know him anymore. 

Other than his dilemma with the Louis, he decided that life in Doncaster wasn’t _all_ bad. Classes weren’t too hard, but they posed a challenge that he could handle, and he was doing fairly well. He grew closer and closer to Niall and Liam each passing day, and when he would see Josh on the weekends or after school, he found that his company was a great laugh as well. Cher and Danielle were two of the most understanding and sweet girls he had ever met, and he couldn’t be more thankful that there was at least five kids at school who he could spend his time with. They at least made his time in this town entertaining. 

*** 

The first clap of thunder followed by the sudden pelting of rain on his rooftop made him sigh. He use to love the rain, but now all that rain signified for him was the end of a friendship, and how the drops masked his tears as he walked home alone. He needed to drown it out with music loud enough, so he plugged his iPod into his speakers, blasting Two Door Cinema Club as high as he wanted, the house empty. Just as he motivated himself to take out his books and start his work, his phone vibrated on the table, making him groan. The last thing he needed was another distraction, or else was never going get this done. When he looked at the screen, the name that popped up was the last thing he expected. 

_Louis Tomlinson: come to the serendipity house plz x_

A million thoughts flooded his head as soon as he read the text. Why the hell would Louis want him there? They hadn’t talked since the scrimmage, and Harry barely considered that a conversation; he wanted to erase it from his memory. Was it not meant for him? Then again, the only other person who knew about the house was Zayn, and knowing his and Louis’ friendship, the text he would receive would be more along the lines of _get ur ass over to my treehouse u shithead_. It _had_ to be for him. He looked it over again, and the little x tacked on the end made his heart heavy. He thought about refusing the invitation, but the part of him that loved Louis brought up the point that this might be his opportunity to see the old him. It would just be the two of them, like old times. 

Sighing, he stood and flipped his text books shut. He didn’t bother to respond to the message, but he pocketed his phone and brought it with him anyway. He paused the music, threw a hoodie over his head, and tucked his curls under a grey beanie. On his way out the door he grabbed an umbrella and started off towards the place he had sworn to himself that he would never return to. The walk was quick as usual, air chilling, trees just beginning to change rustling in the wind, drips of water from the rain falling through their foliage. The path wasn’t muddy just yet, but at the rate the rain was falling, Harry was thankful that he wasn’t wearing a nice pair of shoes. 

When he reached the sign that told him he was there, little drops of water slowly rolling down it, he looked up at the house, noticing that Louis has discarded his shoes before in, the two Converse out on the porch. Harry smiled despite himself, not being able to help loving the quirk that Louis had to always keep the Serendipity House clean. He closed his umbrella and carefully climbed up the steps with one hand. He dropped it next to the shoes when he reached the top and toed off his own. He took a deep breath when he before he entered, and when he swung the door open, all he saw was blue. 

The chair at the desk that Louis always sat at was turned to face the door, journal open on the desk but page obviously blank. It looked as though he had just been watching the door, wondering if Harry was actually going to show up. “You came,” he breathed. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not usually one to turn down an invitation unless absolutely necessary,” Harry said. His statement could’ve been seen as playful and coy, but his tone was dry and serious. He moved inside the house and sat down in the chair furthest away from Louis, by the window. He smelt the rain better from here and didn’t make eye contact with boy whose stare hurt his head. He toyed with a string bracelet on his wrist, pulling at a loose thread. “You texted?” he asked, the silence making him squirm 

“Yeah,” Louis murmured. “Um, yeah, I did. I just wanted to... talk a little, y’know? Catch up, maybe?” He sounded hesitant and unsure, another prime example of a Louis Harry didn’t recognize. Nothing was the same anymore, Harry knew that. Sometimes he thought that it would never be that way again, but he let himself hope from time to time. 

“That’s why you asked me here?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely surprised, but he wasn’t loud nor angry... just _surprised_. “I would’ve thought after all of this, we wouldn’t have much to say to each other anymore.” 

“Why is that, Haz? We’re still same people.” Louis was insistent, like he was trying to convince himself. 

“But the funny thing is, I don’t think we are,” Harry muttered, meeting his gaze, trying to show Louis that his eyes were definitely not shining the green they used to around him. There was no happy grin gracing his face. He wasn’t blushing or laughing. They weren’t the same, of course not. 

Louis laughed dryly. “I don’t really find it all that funny, honestly.” 

Harry stayed silent, because really, he didn’t find it very funny either. Their eyes stayed connected, and Harry searched. He searched desperately to find the underlying glint of happiness that was always in Louis’ eyes, even when they talked about something serious or sad. He found nothing. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t cheerful and bright anymore. Harry didn’t even know what he was. He broke the eye contact first, not being able to stand the pressure of the glance that was normally a bright cerulean on him, now a dull, stormy blue-grey, like the sea on a day where no one would dare go near it, boats flooding, hearts drowning. 

He squirmed, tension thick and heavy, eating away at him. He needed to do something about it quick, before he blurted out something stupid like how he was upset that he hadn’t seen a smile reach his eyes in days or that he was sad that his eyes didn’t sparkle anymore. “So, Lou,” he started, throwing in the nickname just for good measure, “you asked for a game of catch up, so it shall be. How are you?” 

The lie was on the tip of his tongue, Harry could see it. He could practically hear the cheerful “ _I’m lovely!_ ” and see the fake smile popping up on his face, the little crinkle at the corner of his eyes not appearing like it always did when he _really_ smiled. He stopped the lie though, realizing that Harry was the whole reason he had a facade up anyway. “I-I... I’ve been better,” he admitted, voice shaky and self conscious, having never been insecure like this in front of Harry before. 

“Oh really?” Harry asked, keeping his game up, pretending to be innocent, like he didn’t know better, like he couldn’t read every move Louis made and every expression that Louis had. “Why’s that?” 

“Would you stop with the bullshit?” Louis exclaimed, his voice loud and rippling, the calm aura that usually surrounded the Serendipity House broken. “You know why I haven’t been okay recently, Harry. You _know_.” 

Harry didn’t give up on being coy. He wanted to hear it. He wanted the words to come straight from Louis’ lips. He wanted to be a witness of them. He was done making assumptions. “Do I?” he wondered. “I think that you need to tell me, because honestly, I don’t think I know what you’re on about.” 

“Harry,” he sighed, running a hand through his fringe. “Why are you doing this? You _know_ I miss you. Is that what you wanted to hear? I miss you. There. I don’t really understand how this is proving anything to you, but yeah, I miss hanging out with you and talking to you and listening to music with you and I just... I just miss you, okay? Is that what you were looking for?” Louis was breathing a little harder when he was done speaking, and he had to close his eyes and tip his head back over the top his chair for just a minute to calm himself down. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was what I was looking for.” Harry paused. He clenched his hand into a fist and uncurled his fingers slowly. “I just don’t get why you barely acknowledge my existence in school. Am I nothing there?” He didn’t shout. He was done shouting, too. He just wanted to understand again, because that would put him straight back on the course to loving. 

As if he ever stopped. 

“You’re never nothing, Harry,” Louis murmured honestly. “You know I can’t hang out with you there. I _want_ to, I do. It’s just, so many people would say things about me and I-” 

“So this is all about you’re pretty little reputation? Oh, no, I can’t hang out with the _gay_ kid! Then people will call me gay, too! Is that what this is about? You’re afraid of a couple rumours? Come _on_ , Louis, you’re better than that.” He stood, mid-rant. “Or maybe, you’re scared because the rumours they’d be starting are the _truth_. Am I right, Louis?” 

Louis looked petrified, as though he was stark naked and Harry could see _everything_ , inside and out. His eyes were wide but made no contact with Harry’s green ones at all. “N-no!” Louis spluttered out, brining his knees up to his chest where he still sat in his chair facing the door. “It’s not like that, Haz. It’s not! I love Eleanor. I do love her.” His words were unsure, like he was trying to convince himself. Harry saw straight through it. “I’m not... I’m not-” 

“Say it,” Harry growled. 

Louis stayed quiet for a while, only the sound of his own breathing. “I’m not-” He faltered and shut his mouth, looking down at his bare feet to hide the tears that were in his eyes that Harry saw anyway. 

“Yeah, okay, Louis. When you’re ready to talk about this, lemme know.” 

Harry met Louis’ eyes one last time as he approached the door, the tears that were falling freely breaking his heart. He tried to ignore the change he saw written on the door as he walked out. He slipped on his shoes silently, hearing just one choked sob as he picked up his umbrella, trying to fight the urge to turn around and hold Louis in his arms the entire way back. 

*** 

“Niall, I am not talking to Zayn Malik, no way in hell,” Liam muttered, failing to notice Harry in the doorway of his room. 

“Come on, Li! It’s been how many years now? Two? He’s not gonna bite you,” Niall tried, scooting a little closer to his boyfriend on the bed, wrapping an arm his strong shoulders and resting his head in the crook of his neck. Liam curled an arm around his waist and sighed. 

“He might as well.” 

“ _Why_ don’t you wanna talk to Zayn Malik?” Harry announced as he walked into the room and took a seat at Liam’s computer chair. “Your mum let me in,” he explained before being asked. 

“It’s a long story,” Liam grumbled, pressing his nose into Niall’s blonde hair, looking away from his friend. 

“Not really,” Niall stated bluntly. “Plus, don’t you think he deserves to know? I mean, he was friends with Malik for long enough.” 

Liam groaned. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered. 

Niall kissed his neck. “Love you too, babe.” His tone was teasing, but it didn’t make the statements any less truthful. 

Liam turned his attention back to Harry, meeting his eyes with a nostalgic expression. “Ever since we were little, Zayn and I were best friends. One of the closest I’ve ever had. Two years ago, after I ended it with Danielle after she helped me sort myself out, I had to tell him that I was gay, I mean, he was my best mate, I owed it to him right? We never really hid things from each other. And then... he just kind of, stopped talking to me. Like, completely cut me off. And then he went to Louis, who he was already friends with, but basically, I got replaced, and yeah. That’s why I won’t talk to Zayn.” 

“Can I ask one more thing?” Harry asked. 

“Of course, Harry,” Liam said politely. Even if he was speaking of something that he was upset about, he never failed to be kind in his ways. That was one of the many things Harry was already coming to love about Liam. 

“Why would you need to talk to him in the first place?” 

“Well, you know that he’s the co-captain of the footy team, right?” Harry nodded. “Since the first game is this Saturday, I wanted to ask him or Louis, I mean, he’s a captain too, if I could start in the first quarter. It’s never happened, but... I’m feeling pretty confident this year. I’ve been running a lot. I’ve gotten faster, and if I start I feel like we can win.” 

Harry grinned at his determined friend. “I think you should go for it.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not talking to Zayn!” 

“What about Louis?” Harry inquired, looking away from Liam’s gaze. 

Liam studied his change in posture and the shifting of his eyes before saying, “Did you go the Serendipity House again?” 

Harry sighed. “Yes.” 

“Harry-” Niall started. 

“It’s not about that right now, we can talk about it later! Right now I need a reasonable explanation from Liam over here for why he can’t talk to Zayn or Louis about starting. You’re good, Li. I saw you in the scrimmage. I’m sure they’d do it for you. Just because they’re not particularly fond of you or your sexuality or whatever it is, doesn’t mean they don’t want what’s best for their team. They’re captains for a reason, right?” 

Liam exhaled heavily, and Niall entwined their hands. “You’re right, Harry.” He let the smallest of grins spread across his face. “When did you get so intellectual?” 

“Erm...” Harry stammered, shifting in his seat. 

“Oh god, Haz, he was kidding!” Niall exclaimed, lifting his head off of Liam’s shoulder. “What did Louis say now?” 

“How do you know this has anything to do with Louis?” 

“So it does?” his blonde friend countered. Harry groaned. “Harry, you said you went to the Serendipity House, it obviously has something to do with Louis!” 

“Damn,” Harry whispered under his breath. “Louis... I think Louis is, um, I think he’s-” 

“Spit it out then!” Niall exclaimed 

“I think Louis is gay.” 

Both of them stayed quiet, looks of pondering on their faces. Liam spoke up first, sounding unsure. “I don’t know, Louis has never really showed that many signs to being gay. I mean, he’s dating Eleanor, right?” 

_Has he ever heard of the term denial?_ Harry wondered to himself. He would’ve said it out loud if it weren’t for Niall’s comment. 

“No, no, he’s always been kind of a fruitcake,” Niall laughed, probably picturing him in his head. It couldn’t be seen as mean, he was gay himself. Slowly Liam and Harry joined his laughter and they forgot about their worries for a few quick moments of bliss. 

When they calmed down, Liam continued his interrogation by asking, “So what led you to thinking this? Other than the fact that he has a fruitcakey kind of ambience.” 

Harry sighed. 

*** 

“So, you think that because he couldn’t spit it out, that means he’s gay?” Liam asked, sounding a little judgmental and just a hint skeptical. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not trying to defend him, I just want to know. I’m... investigating.” 

“Listen, Li, I asked him to say it, and he _couldn’t_. I mean, he could not be gay, but when he was talking about Eleanor it was like he was convincing _himself_ that he was in love with her. It just didn’t sound genuine, that’s all I’m saying. Plus, he was nearly crying by the time I left. I dunno, it’s just a speculation, okay?” 

“I definitely think you could be right, Harry, but as long as he’s scared of himself and he’s with Eleanor, you’re not going to get any closer to getting in his pants,” Niall said, slowly carding a hand through Liam’s hair that wasn’t meant to make Harry jealous, but it did anyway. 

“It’s not just about getting into his pants!” Harry exclaimed, folding his arms frustratedly. Liam and Niall both raised their eyebrows disbelievingly at him. “I want to help him, too. You guys remember what it’s like being scared, don’t you?” Their eyes softened at the memories, of course they remembered, it was months, or even years of being worried about what other people would think, what other people would say. But that was the road to acceptance, and by the looks of things, Louis just happened to be at a bit of a bump in the road. Well, more than a bump. It was more like a giant pothole that he had find a way to get over or around, because falling in was not an option. He was already far to close to the edge, just one nudge away from falling in and not coming out again. “I just want him to accept himself, and if that requires me helping him, then yeah, I’ll do what I can. I still care about him, even if he treats me like shit at school.” 

“But you do still want to get into his pants, right?” 

“Shut up, Niall!” 

His blush was a good enough answer. 

*** 

“I think that was the most awkward experience of my high school career,” Liam muttered to Niall in the locker room after everyone else had cleared out after practice. 

“I dunno, Li. Remember the first time you put your hand down my pants? _That was awkward_.” Niall was grinning. 

“Twat.” 

“You love me,” Niall sang, throwing his bag over his shoulder. 

“It’s true,” Liam murmured as he pulled him in for a kiss. 

*** 

“So?” Harry questioned as the three of them walked back to his house, glad that the rain from the day before had passed. Harry had hung out in the library instead of the bleachers this time, knowing that most of the hype from the first practice had gone down. And then again, he didn’t want to have that slim chance of running into Eleanor again. Sometimes the judgement was a little too much to handle. “Did you talk to Zayn?” 

“I did, actually,” Liam said, failing to hide the grin that spread across his face at how the conversation with Zayn had gone. He swung his and Niall’s hands back and forth cheerfully. 

“Care to share what he said?” Harry pressed. 

Liam laughed. “Right. So, I approached him after practice, not wanting to like, get him ticked off if he said no before hand and then be angry the whole time and make me run suicides or something awful of the like. So, I think he was really surprised to see that I was even approaching him, because it’s been literally two years since we’ve spoken just the two of us other than a few passing words in the locker room or on the field. I told him pretty much the same thing I told you lads, and he said that he noticed me getting faster and after a few compliments he said yes, and said to keep working hard if I wanted to stay in that position. Then he left. Fast.” Liam was still smiling like an idiot when he was done talking, 

“That’s great, Li!” Harry exclaimed joyfully, truly happy for his exuberant friend, knowing that he truly had talent with the sport. He bumped his hip lightly to show how elated he really was with his friend without attacking him with a hug in the middle of the sidewalk with a Niall attached to his arm. “You’re gonna be great. Crush ‘em! You too, Ni. If you keep making goals like the one last week, team’s set, yeah?” 

Niall beamed. “Thanks, Haz.” 

“Just being honest,” Harry murmured. The walk back to the house was silent other than Niall humming a tune quietly, and it was peaceful, the occasional leaf crunching under their feet or deep breath making a noise as the air whistled. Harry’s mind was reeling despite the silence that surrounded the trio. Now that Liam had gotten back on track and fulfilled his mission, his focus was back on Louis. But really, when wasn’t it? Ever since he had first met the lad he was constantly consuming his thoughts. Whether it be something he had said or something that he had worn or they way he had smiled that day, something about him always caught Harry’s eye, and the blue eyed boy stayed on his mind all day. 

As of now, the only thing that wouldn’t seem to leave his thoughts was helping him. How was he supposed to get let back in when he so rudely left him crying alone in the house? The offer he made was curt, and he doubted it really entered Louis’ thoughts as they were so busy with other things more important. Now he had one goal, and that was to help Louis on the road to acceptance, and if getting in his pants happened to be part of the journey, then so be it.


	9. Chapter Eight

“I can’t just go up to him and start talking to him! I told him that I would wait until _he_ approached _me_ \- like that’s even going to happen. I can’t go up to him now.” 

“Why dontcha try ‘n talk to him in school, normally, y’know-” 

“Have you forgotten he ignores me?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

A cough came from the front of the classroom. “Styles, Horan, is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?” 

Harry squeaked out a barely audible, “No, sir.” 

Niall, on the other hand, boomed, “Actually, sir, Harry here was telling me that the arithmetic was a wee bit off on number four. We were just ‘bout to tell yah.” 

The teacher scoffed as he turned to check his problem, but his chuckles stopped as soon as he saw his math was indeed wrong. He cleared his throat. “Oh, erm, yeah. Thank you then, Mr. Horan.” 

Niall smiled sweetly as the few snickers went around the room. Harry’s head raised from where it was bowed, a little smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth when he met his blonde friend’s eyes. Niall winked as he turned his attention back to the board, knowing their conversation would be finished later, no matter how shitty his advice truly was. 

And the teacher was babbling away again. 

*** 

“Niall, you could’ve gotten in so much trouble.” 

“Nah. Li, you know Brennan loves me. He couldn’t give me detention if he tried.” 

“What about Harry?” 

“He’s with me. Come on, live a little.” 

Liam chuckled. “With you, I always am.” 

*** 

The more Harry opened his eyes, the more he saw Louis in the hallway, and with a slow realization, he began to pick things up. His smile just wasn’t _him_ , there was no crinkle at the side of his eyes. His laugh wasn’t loud and boisterous, and it’s tinkle didn’t give Harry butterflies, it made his heart sink. He hated seeing Louis so closed off and _scared_. And even though he knew the reason why, the fact that he was so stuck and afraid to be himself made Harry even more sympathetic, even if Louis was being kind of a dick about it. Did love do that to a person? His eyes didn’t glint and sparkle anymore. Harry missed the blue. 

Harry tried not to let it get to him, but the more he watched, the less he could turn away, and just the thought alone made him feel like he wanted to throw up. He thought about how brusque and curt he had been when he brushed Louis off like a piece of dust on his shoulder. He shuddered every time he thought about the choked off sob he heard when walking from the tree house. He longed to hold him in his arms and just get lost in _Louis_. He thought about every time he had been to the house, and how on the first day he found a stray paper in what he now knew was Louis’ handwriting. _Sometimes I wonder about myself._

Harry wondered if it had anything to do with him being quite possibly gay. 

He sighed a lot. 

Knowing the truth hurt Harry, only because he knew Louis would never to admit to it. He remembered the fear. He remembered what it was like to be so afraid that he would only lie, lie, lie. It was petrifying, and sometimes he would lose sight of who he was. There was always that one thing that would bring him back to _Harry_ , but he wasn’t so sure what would bring Louis back to himself. 

Louis just looked so _down_ whenever he saw him, and any time they made eye contact they were both so hurried to look away, not once did they notice the hope in each other’s eyes. Harry puzzled over the dejection in the stormy blue eyes. Had he always been this gloomy at school? Maybe now that Harry had finally opened his eyes to the possibilities, the view was something entirely. This distance was an entirely different perspective. Harry couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. 

*** 

“Harry, you’re moping.” 

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t now if you know what it’s like to not be able to talk to the one person you want to!” Harry snapped. His arms folded across his chest protectively, and his green eyes stared at the ground. He was just as disappointed in himself as she was. 

“You were kind of a prat to him,” Cher said. 

“I resent that,” Harry grumbled. 

“Cheer up, darling, thing’s will get better,” Danielle murmured softly. 

“Doubted.” 

“Not with that attitude, Styles,” Cher pointed out. “Could you at least try to be happy for us?” 

“It’s not really that simple.” 

“Well, work on it.” 

Harry frowned and went back to his lunch, halfheartedly picking at his food, only once glancing up to look where he felt eyes on him, the stare making him uncomfortable. He found angry brown eyes locked on him, her eyebrows creased, gaze cold. Harry didn’t even know what he had done to her. Sure, he was friends with Louis, but Eleanor knew nothing between them. Louis wasn’t daft enough to tell her, Harry knew that. But her stare made Harry just the slightest bit uneasy. The fact that Louis was watching her send Harry shards of glass, well, that broke Harry’s heart. Blue met green for a moment, Harry’s eyes sad and sullen, Louis’ bitter and harsh. They were not the ones he loved. 

No, Harry decided, he didn’t like this view at all. 

*** 

“You gonna be all right by yourself tonight, Haz? Footy practice runs a bit late, y’know?” Niall muttered, looking at his friend with a concerned expression, knowing he had had a bit of a rough day, eyes looking sunken. 

Harry sighed, running a hand across his face and rubbing his tired eyes. “Fine, guys. I’m used to being alone, you know that.” 

“That wasn’t positive... at all,” Liam muttered. 

“Thank you, Liam-genius. I’ll go now. Don’t want you to be late. Have fun, yeah?” 

They nodded with caring expressions, and Harry turned on his heel and left hastily. It wasn’t so much that he was angry, just sad and stressed and he was missing so much. He missed Louis, he missed art, he missed his sister. So he knew where he was going, that was at least going to give him a taste of two of the three. Maybe that would give him a better outlook, a twist in a day that made him even more frustrated than normal. He just wanted to be happier again. Not frustrated with the constant worry that Louis was going to snap at him, make him feel like every bit of their friendship had just been a joke. Maybe. 

*** 

Harry was lost in the music. The Head and the Heart were playing, and he was nodding along to the music as he sketched lightly, not really paying too much attention to what he was doing. In fact, he was a little too lost because when the door swung open, he nearly fell off the chair. He hastily paused the music as Louis stepped into his treehouse, his fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat, footy uniform clinging to his tanned skin. Harry wanted to devour him. He was sprawled across his chair, hand over his quickly beating heart in fright. “Louis,” he breathed. 

Louis’ eyebrows raised amusedly, a smirk across his face. “You look like you just about shat your pants.” 

Harry let out a loud, embarrassed laugh, his hands coming up to block the sound that came from his lips. Louis’ smile only grew wider. “Um, I did.” Louis looked at him questioningly. “Not really! I mean, _practically_ shat my pants, oh my god.” Louis laughed. 

“Well then, Haz,” Louis teased coyly. When the nickname slipped, they met eyes, and Harry remembered that things were supposed to be awkward for them. But Louis’ eyes were cerulean again, having lit up when he walked into the room to see the boy he most wanted to see, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit that to himself. His skin was golden and shiny with sweat, and Harry really couldn’t feel any tension. He hoped it stayed that way, because he liked the view best when it was colorful and vibrant. He just hoped that Louis wasn’t avoiding the issue at hand. 

Harry licked his lips as their eyes connected, _really_ connected, and he didn’t miss the way Louis’ eyes flicked down from across the room, but then he tore his gaze away completely, sock-clad feet making a soft padding noise against the hardwood floor. He sat down in the chair next to Harry. 

“Y’know Harry,” he started off, voice rich. Harry tensed. “You’re in my seat.” Harry let out a breath and tucked his knee up to his chest. He rolled his eyes. Louis grinned. 

“Drama queen.” 

Louis snorted, but his smile didn’t falter. He stayed quiet, looking down, and Harry was the one to break the silence. 

“Erm, not to be rude or anything, don’t get me wrong, but why are you here? I know it’s your treehouse, but, erm, wasn’t practice supposed to run late today?” 

“Oh yeah, coach is an idiot and forgot about the faculty meeting, so once we were all changed he told us to go home. Dumb shit.” Louis was smiling though. 

“Why’re you so sweaty, though?” 

“I still wanted a bit of a workout, so I ran here instead.” Harry’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ just as he was about to speak, but Louis looked at him with a pointed look. “Why Curly, didn’t want to see me?” 

Harry didn’t want to say yes, because that wasn’t entirely true, but neither was saying no. So when he stayed silent, it seemed as though the dam was let down and all of the memories came rushing back through to Louis’ mind. He bit his lip, looking away from the blue eyes that always seemed to be taunting him. Louis was temptation. Louis was off limits. Louis was everything he wanted, but everything he dreaded Louis was fear itself, and even though Harry knew he should stay away, and even though Harry knew that he was only half wanted, all he could think about was taking that fear and turning it into acceptance and love. He curled his hand into a fist. 

“Only like this,” Harry muttered, keeping his eyes on his shoes, feet hanging off the edge of the chair where his legs were still tucked up. He looked at the little nicks and scratches in the wood, playing with his bracelets, scared of his own words. 

“Hot and sweaty?” Louis joked airily. 

Harry didn’t find his comment funny in the least. He looked up again, green eyes fiery and passionate. He wasn’t beating around the bush anymore. He was done playing. “Oh fuck _off_ , Louis. Do you think this is funny? Do you think I like being the object of whatever little game you’re playing? I know you know everything. I know you know I love you. You’re hurting me, okay? It hurts.” 

“I-” Louis began, faltering, not knowing where to go next or what to say. He was trapped quite obviously between what was right and what was easy. Although it seemed the more he dwelled on the reality of the “easy” way, the harder it became. Hiding from everyone around him was difficult enough, but hiding from himself was what was tearing him apart. He gave up with Harry. He was letting his walls completely down. He knew already. “I don’t know how to do this, Harry. I don’t.” 

“Why don’t you try a little honesty for once?” Harry retorted, arms holding his knee close to his chest, chin perched atop his blue jeans. 

“I can’t,” Louis whispered. 

“Why’re you always saying you can’t when you haven’t even tried?” Harry exclaimed. “Do you realize that the people at school don’t matter? Have you even thought about the reality? You’re in your last year before uni. You’re captain of the football team. Zayn will love you no matter what, and those who don’t, well... well, _fuck_ them. You shouldn’t even bother with people who don’t take you for you. I’ve learned that the hard way, Louis.” 

“How do you know the team won’t hate me? How do you know that Zayn won’t drop me like he dropped Liam? How do you know that? And what about Eleanor? She’ll ruin me. She’ll ruin _you_.” 

“This has nothing to do-” 

“She’ll say that you turned me gay or something crazy like that. She _will_.” Louis watched as Harry’s eyes widened at his words. That was the first time he had said it out loud. The first time he admitted it to himself. To someone else. 

“This has nothing to do with me, Louis. Me being gay has nothing to do with you being gay.” 

“But... in a way it does, Harry. You’ve been like a light to me. A beacon. You’ve guided me to who I am and this whole time that I’ve been a dick to you... you’ve never went out. Sometimes the light flickered, and sometimes I thought that you would go out and start to shine for someone else. But you didn’t, Haz. You’ve helped me so much.” 

Harry’s breath hitched at Louis’ words. The way he put things into sentences made him squirm. He still didn’t know what everything meant. It had been a journey for the both of them, but maybe Harry wasn’t walking this road alone anymore. “I...” he didn’t know what to say. 

“C’mere,” Louis murmured, standing and walking in front of the chair and offering a hand to Harry. He took it cautiously and was pulled into an achingly tight hug, arms curled around his center, Louis’ smell overwhelming him. He sighed deeply, thinking how much he _missed_ this. He missed hugging Louis and spending time with Louis and releasing his inhibitions with Louis. He flashed back to those last two weeks of summer, how close they had been. How had time passed so quickly? How had things changed so drastically, yet somehow, the wound up in the same place, in each other’s arms, just weeks later? 

They were holding each other so tight that they couldn’t breathe, but Harry thought about how Louis took his breath away regardless. In that moment, Louis forgot. He forgot everything he had ever hidden, every time he hurt this boy in his arms, all of his regrets. He just breathed deep and rubbed up and down the back that his arms were around, muscled and smooth through the thin shirt. He felt safe. There was a boy in the crook of his neck, and he had never felt any more passion for anyone in his life. 

But he still didn’t feel _brave_. 

There had always been this nagging, this reminder, this want for Harry. Ever since he first met him, there was a release of emotion. He felt free. There was nothing holding him back – no restriction. But every time he was to go back to face those with eyes that only judged, his chest tightened again, and every thing that he had set free returned, only to be shoved further back into confinement, his worries and fears becoming more and more prominent each coming day. And Louis knew that although right now he felt as though nothing could touch him, tomorrow would be the day where he would feel as though even the slightest touch would shatter him. 

And now that he had finally admitted it to himself, this undeniable attraction, this _desire_ , he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just throw Eleanor away, like she was suddenly unwanted, like an old notebook filled with things that he no longer needed, that were no longer valid, pages frayed. But he couldn’t just pick Harry up, either, no matter how much he wanted to fill his fresh pages with memories and stories. It wasn’t that simple. 

Louis wasn’t good with judgement. He was insecure on the inside, despite the loud, boisterous persona that coated his outside. He wouldn’t be able to take the watching eyes. He wanted Harry, he did. He wanted him so badly, he had for the since the start, but fear had overtaken him. 

His hands wandered over strong shoulders and a smooth back. He was a little tense, and Harry felt him stiffen. He pulled back from the embrace, keeping his large palms on Louis’ waist. “Are you okay, Louis?” His green eyes were shining with a mixture of pure elation and worry. He couldn’t be happy if it wasn’t both of them who were okay with everything that had just occurred. 

“Yeah,” Louis croaked out. “I’m just... I dunno. I like you a lot, Harry. I’m not just saying that because you told me you...” He took a deep breath. “Told me you l-love me. It’s been right from the start, but you’re brave, and I’m a coward.” 

“You’re not a coward,” Harry breathed. “You’re not.” His hands came up to cup Louis’ face, his thumbs stroking over his high cheek bones, face still flushed hot from running. His fingers were cold against the warm skin. He stared into blue and more than anything wanted to dive in. If he was allowed, that is. 

“I am though!” Louis protested. He pressed his hands over Harry’s and brought them down from his face, twining them together between them. “All I do is run, and I hide, and I can’t face up to anything. And I’m still scared now. I’m scared, Haz.” His eyes shook with emotion his blue clouded with a layer of weariness and fear. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. He knew what he wanted but he didn’t know how to get it, even though it was right in front of him. Harry’s eyes were shining with pure adoration, and he took Louis into another hug, holding him close and carding his fingers through the feathery hair at the back of Louis’ head. Despite his hesitancy, his movements were strong. 

“It’s okay to be scared, Lou. I’m here for you. I am.” Louis barely nodded into Harry’s neck, skin warm there. “I-” Harry started, not sure how to put his sentence. “You take all the time you need, okay? This isn’t about you and me, this isn’t about us, it’s only about you, Louis. Just because I’m here for you, doesn’t mean you need to... need to love me back. Just because I said that I do. Don’t think that’s what it means, because it’s not. I just needed it out there, y’know? I’ve been holding back because of everything that was happening at school, although I’m pretty sure you’ve known the whole time. But, um, yeah. This is about you.” 

Louis pulled back from the hug, but let Harry’s hands linger on his waist. His hands grasped Harry’s biceps, looking into the curious green eyes before him. They looked almost like sea foam; he wanted to get lost in them. “I don’t want it to just be about me. I _want_ it to be about us.” He paused. “Is that okay?” 

Harry didn’t respond for a moment. He was swarmed with thoughts. He thought he was dreaming, but then again, he didn’t know if his dreams would’ve ever turned something like this up. He blinked once, brushing a piece of hair out of Louis’ eyes with a carefully raised, delicate hand. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” he whispered softly. 

“Once,” Louis responded, voice low. “Last summer. It was Stan, and we were both drunk. I don’t remember it. He told me.” 

Harry broke eye contact for a millisecond, looking at the door to only see the word do, big and messy and orange. So he did. Slowly, he tilted his head, watching Louis’ eyes flutter closed before his own and pressed his lips lightly to the ones in front of him. It was a simple press, not moving or making an attempt to, but when Harry felt Louis go rigid, he began to move backwards, head suddenly filled with the worst case scenario, of how dumb he was for doing such a foolish thing, but Louis’ hands slid up his biceps and moved to the back of his head, playing with the loose curls at the nape of his neck, holding him close. Slowly, their lips began to move together, Louis’ lower lip slotted between Harry’s. They kept things easy, steady, new. The kiss was relaxed and long, Harry’s hands wandering Louis’ lower back. He still didn’t believe anything was happening. They were beginning, learning, _doing_. 

That kiss was a lock, but only one of them turned the key to seal the deal that made things permanent. Harry was right up in front, but being so close blinded him.


	10. Chapter Nine

_“I love you,” Harry murmured as he pulled away. Louis’ eyes widened. “You don’t need to say anything. You don’t, I promise, but I just want you to know. So remember that, okay?” Louis nodded and kissed him again._

Those words had been running as a constant mantra through his head all week. _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_. They were a reminder, a drive, but Louis couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to do _anything_. He couldn’t bring himself to break up with Eleanor. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything back to Harry. He was busy being a coward, as per usual. There was still a girl clinging to his arm, prats at school were still being terrible to Harry and his friends, and he was still scared. Nothing had changed. (Okay, so maybe a little bit had changed, but that was beside the point.) 

Louis found refuge in Harry, who he had never been more thankful for. He was understanding about everything, but what he didn’t know was that Harry was wearing thin. He had withstood so much, and he was still standing strong, but it could only be so long before that push made him crumble. He was tired. He was tired of being picked on and shut down; it was like a flood of memories from the past, when all he was was ignored. He was tired of being second best, and even though Louis knew that he loved him, Eleanor was still standing there in front of him, all pretty curves and powerful personality. Even though he knew Louis liked boys, there was still an itch in him that he loved her. He was tired of pretending, and while it had only been three days, they had reached an end of the week, and he already couldn’t bare Louis and Eleanor parading around the hallways as if nothing had happened in the only place where had truly found _serendipity._

When Friday afternoon rolled around, Harry ditched school as soon as he could, walking home with a quick goodbye to Niall and Liam who were going back to one of their houses for the evening. He knew that Louis would already be at the house when he got there; he somehow managed to be faster every time. He just wanted peace. He wanted to get away from all of the people that made him squirm with lies and dishonesty. As soon as he climbed the steps and shucked off his shoes, he saw Louis standing in the middle of the room as he swung open the door, having been looking at the words spattered before him. He strode over to him with confidence and grabbed his face between his hands and kissed him hard. He prolonged it for as long as he could, but as he pulled away he pressed his forehead against a breathless Louis’ and murmured, “That was the worst three days of my life.” 

Louis pecked him back and agreed, “I know what you mean.” They exchanged smiles. 

Harry was little confused. He knew where his heart was – in the palms of Louis’ hands – but he was a unsure of where Louis’ was. Harry was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, proud and bold and honest. Louis was not, as much as he wanted to. He was confined and trapped and scared, and Harry only wanted him to be happy with himself. While Louis had a strong exterior, if someone found their way and managed to wedge themselves in his cracks, one simple twist could get him to crumble, straight to the ground, until there was nothing left to look through, just dust and worthlessness. Louis was still dating Eleanor. Harry tried not to think about the fact that he was the one Louis was cheating with. If he focused on it, he would probably start to cry. 

Harry thumbed across his Louis’ cheekbone and took him into an unexpected hug. Louis smelt like boys and cologne, and he was warm, and his jumper was soft. His arms looped tightly around his small waist, burrowing into the crook of his neck. Louis pressed up against him, arms wandering Harry’s upper back lightly. “What’s up, Harry?” Louis murmured softly. 

“It’s good to see you again. And I know I saw you everyday, but it’s good to see you again,” Harry whispered into his ear. He pulled back and stared into the eyes that he had missed so much. They were shining blue. Blue like the ocean and the sky at once. They were twinkling. Harry’s breath hitched. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks quietly. “I’m sorry I pounced on you when I walked in. I just missed you a lot this we-” 

Louis intentionally bumped his nose against Harry’s and pressed a light kiss on his lips and then again on his cheek where he lingered. “You’re too good to me. How’ve you stayed here all along?” he wondered aloud. How had he gotten so lucky? Harry could’ve given up on him ages ago, letting go and moving on. But Harry wasn’t someone who gave up when he saw something that he believed in. And in Louis, he saw passion. He saw beauty. He saw love. He saw the littlest bit of sunlight streaming through the window at the darkest of times. He saw a spark of courage that could develop into a fire that was warm and burned bright. 

They could both be bright. 

Harry shook his head. He bit his lip before saying, “You’re worth it, Louis.” 

Louis tightened the hug again, squeezing tight and breathing in his cinnamon smell and _harryharryharry_. “I missed you too, y’know. I’ve missed you so much, Haz.” Harry didn’t say anything in return, he just pressed little kisses up and down Louis’ neck and to the underside of his jaw and listened to him breathe and feel his heart pump the energy through his veins. Louis’ hands played with his hair, and he twisted the curls with single fingers, letting them slide silkily against his skin. Harry heard him murmur “ _gorgeous_ ” once, but he didn’t say anything to that either. 

“Louis,” Harry started after an amount of time that neither of them knew, nor did they care. Louis murmured a noncommittal noise into his skin. “Louis, would you ever let me read any of your stories?” Louis lifted his head and looked at him curiously. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to... but I’m just wondering.” 

Louis thought it over for a bit. “I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it... just, not today, okay? I need to find one for you to read. A good one.” 

“I’m sure they’re all good, Louis.” 

“A special one, then,” Louis argued. 

Harry smiled. “Okay.” 

They just looked at each other for a minute, and Harry wondered how things had so changed so dramatically in just a snap of the fingers. One day he had been fighting a fatal battle, and the next he had won, safe and sound and at _home. What would’ve happened if school never started?_ Harry mused. Would they had gotten together from the beginning? He remember that Eleanor had still been in the picture during the summer. He answered his own question. He thought about summer anyway. The days when they would just sit in the house and write and draw and talk about everything and nothing. Harry would draw his thoughts and Louis would write his heart and they didn’t have to worry. It was all carefree and serenity. There were no inhibitions, neither of them had been holding back because there was no one around them to make judgements. There were no watching eyes or harsh opinions, just Harry and Louis. Just the two of them. He wanted that again, and he realized that today he could have it. 

“Lou,” he murmured.” 

“Hmm?” Louis answered. 

“Do you remember August?” 

“How could I forget?” Louis asked seriously. 

“Can we do what we did then? Just sit and listen to music and not worry. I don’t want to worry today, Louis. Can it just be you and me today, like no one else exists?” Harry’s eyes seemed to grow even bigger than what they were ordinarily. He looked innocent and worn down, and Louis immediately felt guilty. He had caused all of this pain when he had already suffered so much before he had come along. He had only made Harry feel more abandoned, and he dreaded doing it again. No matter what he said, he would still feel like a coward. 

Louis stood up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’d like that, yeah.” 

***  

City and Colour was playing. Rain was falling. Harry was starting to like the rain again. He thought maybe he didn’t really have to have a strong opinion on it. maybe rain could just be a lot of things, each drop a memory for a different time. When he was sad, a drop could splash on his nose and he would remember the times when he walked home alone in the pouring rain and when Louis shredded him to pieces. But when he was happy, he could dance in the memories falling around him, like sitting here with a boy at his side and his heart light, warm, and intimate, or when he was young and naive and jumped in puddles with Gemma. Maybe rain could be like that. 

He didn’t really know what he was drawing. There was swirls and stars and dots and lines. He was drawing his mind and his heart, and it was okay that he didn’t have a picture to imitate. He didn’t always have to have a plan or a goal or an image. He was letting his hand do as it pleased. He didn’t have to have a reference to make something beautiful. It didn’t mean he didn’t have inspiration. 

Every moment or so, he would glance over to his left. 

There was a boy with a caramel fringe dipping over his eyes, a maroon jumper fitting snug, lip caught between his teeth lightly as he poured his heart into phrases. Sometimes he would stare, but other times he would just catch a glance, taking whatever emotion that came first, whether it be love or lust or bliss, and put it down onto paper. He didn’t care that it looked like a mess. Sometimes he was a mess, so that was okay. 

He felt Louis’ eyes on him as he put his pencil down for a break. The music was low and the rain was soft. “You’re stunning, you know?” Harry met the blue eyes that were watching him. He pushed his curls out of his eyes and felt a blush spread across his porcelain cheeks. 

“Nothing compared to you,” he returned, honesty quite obviously laced into his voice. 

“I’m not...” 

“You are.” 

Harry’s statement was firm. “You’re fucking hot, Louis.” 

Louis didn’t say anything back, but his face was crimson. Harry got up from his chair and squatted in front of Louis’, his hands resting on his knees for support. “Do you get insecure, Lou?” 

Louis thought about it for a moment, letting his hands drop his pencil and rest on top of Harry’s. He noticed how small they were compared to the ones underneath his. He couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. If he was honest, it made him feel safe when he was so often scared. “Not really. Only around you...” Harry made to interrupt, fully prepared to shoot him down to how _ridiculous_ that was, because around _Harry_? He had been insecure enough himself. “It’s not even bad,” Louis continued. “You’re just... oh my god this is going to make me sound like such a sap, but you’re so beautiful, Haz. Inside and out, and you’ve been so proud this whole time, and who am I to lie? I’m jealous, and sometimes I’m a little intimidated of how sure of yourself you are. You can take the darkest of moments and make them light again. You can grasp something horrifying and make it aesthetic again.” Harry felt the purity and realness of his words, coming from the bottom of his heart. Once again, he was jealous of how put together his sentences were. Harry spoke through art, but Louis spoke through his words, and he was _good_ at it. 

Harry pulled Louis up and out of his chair, so they were standing at eye level again. He met his eyes carefully, looking down just the slightest, but the blue were cast at the floor. “Look at me, Lou. I wasn’t always brave, y’know. Do you remember when I first met you?” Louis nodded as Harry’s hand came to cup the back of his neck. “I was _so_ insecure. I was a right, bumbling idiot who couldn’t form sentences around you because you made me nervous. But then, you became my best friend, and I knew that I didn’t have to worry around you anymore, and you shouldn’t have to worry around me. Specifically, erm, when you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He smiled bashfully, and Louis pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, lips ghosting for a moment afterward. 

“Thank you, Harry,” he whispered against his cheek. 

“Nothing to be worried about,” Harry mumbled softly, voice low as he turned his cheek to capture Louis’ lips in a kiss. It was soft and slow and easy. Harry’s hands threaded through the soft hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. There was a quiet song playing around them, but Harry didn’t care enough to place it. Louis wasn’t ashamed, in those moments, he was unknotted, any of the tension and perturbation that had worked its way into Louis’ system weaving out. And simple exhale between kisses and catching the light in Harry’s green eyes was making him alleviate all of his pent up aggression, the strain on his bonds that made him close to snapping. He let his tongue slip past his lips, exploring. It never got too heated, they just felt and wandered and felt _safe_ and _brave_. They kissed for a long time, loving, learning, _doing._

“Missed you so much, Lou,” Harry whispered into his mouth. 

“Missed you, too, darling,” Louis said back, the term of endearment coming off his lips without second thought. He heard the catch in Harry’s breath and kissed him again, a tingle running through him at the affect he could have on the boy he was so wrapped up in. Louis pulled away for a moment, just to stare. His lips were red and swollen, puffy from kissing, his hair was mussed from Louis’ wandering hands tugging through the curls, his eyes were shining green, but pupils dark. He attacked his collarbones, kissing up his neck and jaw, and just as he went to press his lips against Harry’s again, the door swung open and all he had to say was, 

“Fuck.” 

*** 

_“Harry, maybe you should go.”_

Of course he had listened. He couldn’t just say no. It wasn’t his place to, no matter how much he wanted to cling to Louis’ arm and beg him to just explain. But his blue eyes were pleading, begging for Harry to leave, and he just wordless nodded and packed up his leather messenger bag, picking up his sketch, but then pointedly leaving it on the desk were it had been before, exiting with a fleeting glance at those cerulean eyes and being sure not to brush the shoulder of who had so rudely entered without warning, but he made eye contact with Zayn’s warm hazelly eyes, and for a minute he thought everything would be okay, but then he felt the sorrow radiating from Louis, the fear, and everything came crashing down around him again. 

The rain had by then stopped, and he trekked on the path home with welled up eyes that he refused to let cry. It was too soon to be raining again. 

He might’ve been hallucinating as he slipped on his shoes and climbed down from the house, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard the intruder say, “Why’d you tell him to go?” like there was no actually concern of _who_ he was with, just the fact that he had so rudely told him to leave. Harry’s heart clenched in his chest as he walked home, breaths heavy and he repeated to himself _dontcrydontcrydontcry_ , and _youreokayyoureokayyoureokay_. 

He wasn’t okay. 

As soon as he walked into his room, thankful that his mum was out at work, he collapsed onto his bed face first, curls forming a frame around his head, breathing in the scent of Louis that had stuck to him. He burrowed into the pillows, not wanting to see, not wanting to think. Eventually, he shifted into a ball, knees curled up to his chest, finally letting the tears spill over. He cried quietly, refusing to let sobs wrack his body. Silent, salty, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and he didn’t know how he let himself get here. He was in love with a boy who was too scared to love himself. He was in love with a boy who was just like him, but he didn’t know how to bring him to acceptance. 

He was in love, but there was not much he could do to show it. 

*** 

Harry spent the weekend crying. He ignored Niall and Liam’s calls and texts, not wanting to speak to anyone. He stared at his phone waiting for a text that never came. No apology, no explanation, not even a single word. He played sad music all the while, trying to get the red to leave his eyes and to stop looking like he hadn’t slept in days. There was a pain in his chest and a hole in his heart, and really he just wanted to kiss Louis again. He wanted kiss Louis and forget everything bad because that’s what happened when they kissed. He _forgot_. 

All of his worries disappeared and his train of thought was only involving great bums, blue eyes, soft hair, and a crinkly-eyed smile. But now his mind was a slideshow of pictures he didn’t want to see, the good and the bad. There were images of Louis’ lips after they kissed and his smile when he finished writing a story. There were images of his look of concentration when he was thinking of new plots and characters and his beam when he scored a goal in footy. But he saw his frown in school and his fake smile - when it didn’t reach his eyes. He saw his hand clasped with Eleanor’s and the look of devastation that had work its way across his features when Zayn walked in. He saw the pleading in his eyes when he was told to walk away. He heard his soft breathing and his quiet hums that he thought Harry couldn’t hear even though it was something he loved more than anything. He heard the crack in his voice when he talked about he thought he was a coward and the stutter in his words when he stumbled over the word love. 

Harry cried again. His mind was clogged and when he tried to draw he told himself _shitshitshit_. He tugged on his hair and love tugged on his heart and he couldn’t even imagine what he was going to face on Monday. 

On Sunday morning there was a knock on his door and he was called downstairs by his mum that someone was here for him. He didn’t get his hopes up; he knew it wasn’t Louis because Louis didn’t know where he lived. Yet he couldn’t prevent the little sink in his heart when he saw Niall and Liam standing in his living room, worried expressions painting their features. 

“You can’t just ignore us, Harry.” 

“I dunno, mate, it was working pretty well if you ask me,” he grumbled, pulling the drawstring of his joggers tighter and wiping a hand across his tired eyes. 

Liam frowned. “Don’t be like this, Harry,” he murmured. 

Harry scowled. “Do you think I want to be like this?” he snapped. 

Anne was watching from the doorway to the kitchen. She’d approached Harry multiple times over the course of the weekend, but he had never given her a straight answer to why he was sad. He just mumbled stuff. She sighed but never pushed further. She had to give him time. She knew that. 

Harry pushed his fingers through his hair, taking a shaky breath and telling himself not to cry again. “Let’s go upstairs. We can talk.” His voice was unsteady and scratchy from tears. He just felt _stuck_. Both of his friends were giving him concerned looks, and after a few seconds of just looking at them, he couldn’t take the stares, so he turned on his heel and led them up the stairs, needing to sit down. He was overwhelmed. 

“What’s up, Harry? What’s he done now?” Niall’s words were crude and blunt, but his voice was soft, and he was addressing the problem like it needed to be addressed. 

Harry sank into his chair and barely whispered. “Everything!” He didn’t know how to put his explanation into words. “He’s done everything. He’s gone and made me fall in love with me, and now he’s so ashamed of himself - of me, that he can’t say anything. Can’t do anything. And Zayn - Zayn, he walked in on us kissing, and Lou - well, he just told me to leave and he’s still dating his girlfriend, and I’m a mess because I’m in love with him, and he’s cheating on her with me, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about any of it.” He was crying again, tears stinging his tired eyes, words muffled into his knees at the end of his sentences. “What am I supposed to do?” he whimpered. 

Niall looked at Liam who jerked his head, and he stood, tugging at Harry’s arms to get him to stand. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s thin waist once he was upright, pulling him into a tight hug, rubbing up and down his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Haz. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Harry sobbed into Niall’s neck, and Liam watched a little helplessly, a gentle hand resting on the small of Niall’s back. 

He whispered in his boyfriend’s ear, “You’re doing great, love.” Niall grinned through his soft mantra of encouragement to Harry. 

Once he calmed down, Harry cuddled up in his bed, holding the cup of tea that Liam had gone downstairs to make. He cradled the warmth in his hands, looking at his friends with puffy, red, thankful eyes. “You guys are too good to me, even when I’m being absolute shit.” 

Niall grinned as Liam responded, “We understand that you’re going through a tough time, Haz. You need some love.” Harry’s heart twisted at the word, but he didn’t let his face fall because he knew Liam didn’t mean it as a way to bring the topic of Louis back to the surface. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

“It’s all right,” Niall said, chipper. “So how ‘bout some FIFA to take your mind off of things?” 

Harry grinned. 

*** 

By the time they had played a few rounds - Niall reigning supreme - the three boys were sitting in the living room with warm cups of tea and hoodies. Niall and Liam were cuddled on the couch, but Harry refused to let it bother him. He had no reason to be angry at his two friends who were so happy together. 

In a moment of silence, Niall grinned slyly. “So, Harry, feel free to ignore me and call me a prick, but tell me, how good of a hookup is the infamous Tommo?” 

Harry burst out laughing. Maybe it should’ve bothered him a little more than it did, but with Niall’s tone of voice and the question itself, he couldn’t be angry. He winked over exaggeratedly. “That’s for me to know and for you to _never ever_ find out.” 

Niall scowled playfully, and for the moment, Harry was okay.


	11. Chapter Ten

So his weekend wasn’t all it shaped up to be. He wanted more than anything to be relaxing, to just draw and kiss and lay his heart down onto paper and show his love through embrace. It quite obviously hadn’t turned out like that, but he was thankful for Niall and Liam who managed to keep his mind off of things for about a day. They played video games and talked about school and each other and genuinely had fun. But when they left, Harry was sucked back into his thoughts, the endless amount of _what ifs_. And he ended up merely moping around for the end of his Sunday. He had tea and supper with his mum, just barely explaining to her that he had a hard week at school and a bit of a headache. Neither were truly lies, but it most certainly was not the full truth. 

He blasted Ben Howard in his room, which in the end turned out not to be such a good idea because he remembered Louis telling him once that _Every Kingdom_ was one of his favorite albums of all time, and the fact that the music at such a darkly beautiful, wistful melody, well, it just made him a bit sadder. He forced himself through his homework and stared up at the ceiling when he was finished, only wondering what he would face the next day. Because come Monday, there would have to be some sort of confrontation, whether it be words or a glance or just being present in the same place together. It would be a connection though. Harry would feel it. He would feel the tension from the second that he stepped foot into that building, and he knew that there would nothing he could do to break it. It was on Louis. Always on Louis. 

He thought about Zayn’s reaction as well. Their original meeting had been brief, only a day, and while they had clicked, he recalled Liam’s past - their friendship crumbled because of a little homophobia that resided. He thought about Louis’ friendship with Zayn, and he wondered whether he was truly mad or not, or if the calm, cool, collected tone he heard had been just forced, not wanting to blow up. Or was Zayn sad? Harry didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know if Louis would talk to him again. He didn’t know if Louis would blame he for losing Zayn. Hell, he didn’t even know if Louis did lose Zayn. But he was lost, and he didn’t like being clueless. 

And Ben Howard’s voice echoed through his room, “ _Who am I, darling, to you, who am I?_ ” 

*** 

He felt like he was being dragged along the dull tiles of his school’s hallways for most of the day. His morning was spent aching and tired, eyes still red rimmed. Lunch was unbearable. Niall and Liam were looking at him, their expressions concerned, but at a loss of what to do. He picked at his food half-heartedly, meeting Louis’ blue glance only once, but holding it for about two seconds, finding the blue too grey and his heart too heavy. He forced himself to appear at least a little more chipper at the end of the day (although that plan didn’t work too well), and he slammed his locker shut by the time the bell rang, messenger bag slung over his shoulder holding way too many books. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket on his way home, but he couldn’t really be bothered as he walked. He watched his feet on the sidewalk, knees turned in with his pigeon toed stride, but he got irritated when his phone buzzed another three times. Sighing, he pulled it out of his pocket. 

_Can we talk pls?_

 _ _I’m sorry.__

 _ _ _Zayn wasn’t mad.___

 _ _ _ _Please come to the serendipity house, haz. xxx_ ___

___

A bucket of emotions washed over him in that moment, and he really didn’t want to know what his expression looked like during those few seconds. So Louis talked to him, but he hadn’t had the guts do to it at school. Zayn wasn’t mad, yet Louis let him sit that whole weekend, wallowing in his own self pity and worry. He was sorry. He shook his head in disarray, curling flopping about, and he tucked his phone back in his pocket, adjusting the strap on his shoulder and wondering how when he was with Louis he could possibly feel so restricted yet so free at the same time. 

By the time he reached his house to deposit his bag, he had tripped twice. His mum was still at work, so he simply pulled out his key, dropped his bag by the stairs, and walked back out again, taking a deep breath as he started towards the dead end at the end of the street that was getting more and more barren as autumn progressed. About halfway there, he realized that he had never replied, but it was the last thing on his mind, relevancy wise. His white converse made a crunching sound on the dead leaves, fallen from their trees, faded and dull. There was a chill in the air, and he pulled his warm jacket tighter around him, wool lining the inside. 

As he approached the house, he saw a pair of Vans sitting outside, and Harry wondered if Louis’ feet got cold. He never really wore socks. He pushed the unrelated thought aside, and climbed up the stairs, fingertips dancing and light along the smooth wood, getting rid of his shoes and pushing the door forward. He was met with waiting blue eyes, notebook in front of him unopened, most likely out of lack of focus. “Harry,” Louis breathed, and his tone was relieved, breath heavy. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry said, but his tone wasn’t as soft, his eyes weren’t as warm, and he was here only to listen. He wasn’t sure where everything was headed, but it was most important to keep his mind set right now. This was about explanation, not forgiveness, although, that was something that he wanted too. 

But you can’t always get what you want, can you? 

Although, pessimism wasn’t exactly the answer either. 

Harry was indecisive. He was so unsure of what he could get from this. 

He tore his eyes from the stare he had shared with Louis and sat himself down in the seat next to him. The house was _cold_ , and October was just leaving them. Their eyes met again, but Harry didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Zayn wasn’t mad,” Louis murmured, repeating the words from his text. Harry thought of only himself in that moment, fighting off a scowl and saying in his head _I left for nothing, then? I cried for nothing_? But he stayed silent still, demanding elaboration. “He was a little confused, yeah, and upset that I was cheating... but he wasn’t mad. I was so scared, Harry, but I sat him down and explained everything to him, because he deserved to know. I told him everything, how I was so terrible to you, how I feel about you, and I’m so, so sorry I kicked you out. I’m _awful_ under pressure, and I felt so guilty the whole weekend, and I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know if you would respond to me. If you were mad or not. I’m sorry.” 

Harry clenched his jaw; he found it so hard to hold a grudge against Louis, eyes blue and shiny and honest. He let out a shuddery breath, biting his lip. “I just - how can I trust you, Lou?” Harry felt like he was ripping himself apart as he spoke. “You’re _cheating_ on someone with me. You told me to leave just because Zayn walked in on us! I could’ve been there for you. Or at least helped you explain... I don’t know what to do, Louis. How am I supposed to know this is worth it? Am I just a little side gay experiment for you? What am I? Do you even love me?” His throat was closing, and he so desperately wanted to keep quiet, to go back to bliss and the soft lips that he wanted to stay connected to forever. But he wasn’t going to keep swimming in constant wondering, insecurity. He wanted to know, and he needed to make sure that he wasn’t wasting his heart on something that was worth it. 

“I love you, Harry, I do!” Louis exclaimed, and his glassy eyes had let the tears spill over his eyes, and this reminded Harry of a time before this one, when Louis professed his love for Eleanor to him. Like he was convincing himself. Yet Harry could hear the ‘but’ hanging off his sentence. “But I can’t break up with her.” 

Harry’s heart broke in his chest, a dull ache, a blow right to the chest. _Of course_ , he thought absently. “Then don’t say you love me, you bastard. There’s no way in hell that you could possibly love me enough but not be able to show it. It’s one thing to take your time in telling everyone, but staying with her? If you cared enough, you wouldn’t be so concerned about letting her go. If you,” there was a break in his speech, and he took a deep breath. His voice went from loud and angry, to simply broken. “If you cared enough, you wouldn’t be so concerned about what everyone else was going to say, you wouldn’t take anyone else’s opinion for shit. And y’know what? I get that you’re scared. You think I’ve never been scared? I just don’t get why you’re so scared to break up with her, even though I love you. I was pretty sure you loved me too, but by the looks of this, I’m not so sure.” 

Harry was crying too, now. His green eyes were flooding with fat tears, and they were hot and stinging down his face. He hated what he was saying. He hated it. And in that moment, he almost hated himself, but it was what needed to be said. He couldn’t push on with a relationship that was being formed with half of a heart. It was all or nothing. 

“I love you, Harry. Please know that. She’ll make both of our lives a living hell. I don’t want you to go through that.” 

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Louis. Don’t make this about me. I’ve gone through that once, and I can do it again. And you’d be at my side. But if you’re not ready to risk your little high status, and clean, straight football rep, okay. But I’m not gonna let you use me for a little fun on the sidelines. I’m not gonna wait there. So tell me, Louis, would you do this for me? Or at least break up with her? You don’t - you don’t have to come out with me right away, not even for a while, but I am done being the person who’s being used. It makes me feel disgusting, and even though I love you more than you know, I don’t think it’s worth that.” 

Louis was crying freely now, face buried between his hands, resting on his knees, and half of Harry wanted to apologize, wanted to shower him in cuddles in kisses and tell him that he would stick around for anything, but the smarter part of him knew he couldn’t. He was done being dragged through the mud. “I can’t, Haz,” Louis choked out. 

There were those words again. _I can’t_. Of course he couldn’t. 

Harry’s eyes were still glimmering when he stood from his chair, heart weighing him down as if he were attached to this place, the person in front of him. In a sense, he was. 

He dropped into a low squat in front of Louis’ chair and peeled his hands from his face. His blue eyes were dismal and bloodshot, and there was a twist in Harry’s gut at the thought that he made them that way. He cupped his cheeks in his two large palms, thumbing at his cheekbones, the smooth skin wet with tears. He pressed his lips gently to the boy’s in front of him, kissing him in a goodbye. He made to let go right away, but Louis held onto him, hands scratching and crawling along his back, wanting to keep him close forever. And Harry found himself sucked in, letting himself be kissed. They were both crying, and it definitely felt like goodbye. Louis’ hands gripped his biceps when he pulled away, and Harry really didn’t want him to let go. “Bye, Lou. When you’ve got everything sorted, give me a call, yeah?” 

Louis didn’t respond, and Harry didn’t have the heart to say anything else. He let his hands slide gently away from Louis’ face, and when he was back on the ground of the path home, once again, he found himself walking alone, tears streaming down his face. 

*** 

When Harry got home, he let himself sob. He choked on his own tears and hiccuped when he swallowed too much air. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and when he had walked past his mirror on his way in, he only saw Louis’ eyes, tired and scared and _heartbroken_ , and it was all his fault. He curled up in a ball on his bed, and by the time his tears had run dry, he was covered in this veil of darkness and sadness and _guilt_. He fell so, so guilty, because even though he was bringing all of this pain to himself, he was hurting Louis in the process, which only let him to feeling even worse. He rubbed his tired eyes and at supper when his mum looked at him funny and and Robin sent him a curious glance, he brushed it off as stress and a lot of homework. (Which wasn’t a lie; his heavy messenger bag still sat at the foot of the stairs, all of the work waiting to be done.) Anne had let it slide, recognizing the lie, but waiting for Harry to come to the truth, as he always did in the end. Lying wasn’t his forte; he bled honesty. 

Harry ended up staying up very late listening to quiet, melancholy, nostalgic music while doing his immense workload, and he woke up to crusty, still-red eyes. Niall and Liam pestered him all day, knowing that Louis had to do some of it, but not daring to go up to him and ask themselves. It was a bit of a vicious cycle. 

So, Harry was mopey. It lasted all week, and he was silent for the most part, and he had his “sad music, go away” playlist on repeat. (He wasn’t very creative with his titles.) He was at constant war with himself, knowing what he had done was ultimately the right decision, but wondering if it was a good one. He felt as though he really _should_ be blaming Louis for his state of woe and heartache, but he simply couldn’t. _He_ was the one with the heavy heart, guilt weighing him down, like all of this was his own fault. He kept telling himself, _you should’ve held out longer. He would’ve broken up with her anyway. You could be happy right now._ But then the other side of him would say, _No. You’re not a ragdoll. He can’t just do that to you._ And then he would just sigh loudly, frown that seemed to be etched into his cheeks going nowhere. 

The inevitable explanation to Niall and Liam happened over the weekend, both of them growing frustrated with Harry’s state of distress, and when he mumbled, “I’m not seeing Louis anymore. Like, at all,” Niall gave him a clap on the back and Liam smiled waveringly at him, but he didn’t feel better at all. In fact, he felt worse, like a piece was missing from him, the Serendipity House, the words, the gummy eraser that he had torn apart and put back together over and over again while he was drawing, the worn books, his boy. 

So when they were talking in that little cafe, Harry kept quiet after that particular topic passed over, hiding behind the rim of his tea cup and ignoring the concerned looks his friends were giving him. He played with the bracelets on his wrists and tried not to wonder about what he was going to do next, because he really didn’t know. 

Harry spent the next week drawing. In every free moment of his time, he pulled out a sketch pad and pencil, and that was the only thing he focused on. It was almost therapeutic; it kept him distracted – it was a release. He didn’t count how many sketches he finished in that week, but it was more than he had done in a long time. He drew a tea cup that sat in his room from the time that Niall knocked onto the floor, a crack down the middle. He tried not to think of his heart. He drew a single leaf, crackled and browned on the ground, and he tried not to think of the year prior to this one. He drew a hand, and it turned out looking like one that was small and tanned and curled around his pen in focus when he was writing, and he tried not to think about that, either. 

He naturally grew frustrated at times; he always did when he was drawing, but sometimes he would find himself on the verge of tears and for some reason he thought that maybe it wasn’t just because he was frustrated. His hand would fist around his pencil and his brow would furrow and sometimes he would spilt the would in half just out of pure exasperation. He would force himself to take a deep breath and often times he would become so annoyed and disgusted at whatever piece he was working on that he would have to start a new one and go back to the one that he working on at a later time. At one point, he had more than five sketches going and figured that he should probably work on one of the half finished ones. He laughed at himself, too, so that was progress. 

When he couldn’t draw anymore and he had a cramp in his hand he would go on Youtube and find weird bands and listen to their whole album while he was doing his homework and text Josh about how dumb their maths book was. And yeah, he was upset sometimes and the Scientist by Coldplay would come on shuffle and he’d remember _everything_ but he could escape his mind for a little, and that was good. That was progress. His eyes were still a little tired and his heart was definitely still heavy, but then he’d think that he had some art that he was relatively proud of and that would cheer him up. 

He was having some mood swings; that was evident. 

It was Friday and he walked into school with a swing his step - he had plans to go to see a film with Niall and Liam that night. He went to class dutifully and took notes when he was supposed to and focused on later. He wrote a passage in English and while he still did not have a way with words, he didn’t think about how Louis did. He did not find blue eyes during lunch. Maths was boring and he was fairly sure he had failed the quiz from the day before now that they were reviewing the material again, but he thought about the sketch pad in his bag that on which he would be able to spill out a river of lines and shadows and that maybe they would look like his heart, going through a cycle, cleaning out the debris from when it had shattered and renewing itself again, pristine and willing and ready to be whole again, even though there was an ache that lingered. It pulsed with his heart and he wondered if he would ever if would ever fill. 

His page was half filled when his free period was over. There was a phoenix drawn on the page, feathers fiery with rebirth and light and flames, symbolizing recreation and rebuilding oneself. Harry didn’t think he would ever finish this one.

_

_

_


	12. Chapter Eleven

Harry had reached a point in his life where he was not so much sad anymore, but he definitely wasn’t satisfied. He was at a lull. Louis had left a hole in him that wouldn’t seem to go away, and no matter how much he tried to drown it out with music and art and his friends, there was this little space that was demanding to be filled in, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

That half finished phoenix drawing haunted him, because despite his pure want to pick up and move on, love wasn’t so willing. He had an attachment to Louis and everything that he came with, so there was no way around his dissatisfaction. That’s what he was though, unsatisfied. He wanted to be happy and jubilant and not have his heart bound to this _boy_. 

Niall and Liam did their best, too, and as much as they wanted to help, there wasn’t much they could do. Harry wished it was so simple as to just start hanging out with Louis again, seeing him, but it _wasn’t_. They were separated, and until Louis dropped his girlfriend and his straight boy track record, there was no two ways about it. Sometimes they would make awkward eye contact across the lunch room, like they have after all this time, but there would always be a malicious stare coming after him, the brown of Eleanor’s gaze icy and quite scary, if Harry was honest. She was everywhere, really. November was settled in nicely, but there was a few more football games to go. But whenever Harry would sit in the stands at the practices or cheer at the games, no matter how much he wanted to scream out Louis’ name along with Niall, Liam, and Josh’s, he couldn’t, because there was a leggy brunette not too far away from him. 

Really, Harry hadn’t given her that much of a reason to hate him. Sure, he had been the one her boyfriend cheated with, but she didn’t know that, and what she didn’t know didn’t hurt her. But apparently, she saw Harry as a threat when she had no real reason to. Harry was cautious either way. She was the last person he really wanted to tick off. 

Harry didn’t think it would be so simple, though. He walked into school one day after the football season had ended, and he spotted Louis. There was no girl clinging to his side and clutching his hand as if her life depended on it. In fact, Louis looked almost _happy_. He looked _relieved_. And Eleanor walked into the school minutes later, her eyes a little puffy, but her strut proud and bag slung over her shoulder as one of her friends followed close behind. Harry had to blink a few times as he took books from his locker to make sure that what he was seeing wasn’t his imagination running wild. But no, they didn’t meet up later in the hallway, they didn’t even speak or make eye contact. Harry was surprised; he never thought Louis would do it. Or at least not this soon. 

But as school are, rumors travel fast, and it wasn’t long into the day when whispers about the school’s power couple break up were going around. Just by listening in maths about what some of the other kids on the footy team were saying, Harry truly found out a shock. It was Eleanor who had done the breaking up, and there were rumors going around that it was because Louis had herpes, but Harry seriously doubted that. He figured he would at least know about that by now. 

He wasn’t surprised when at lunch Eleanor was sitting with some girls, and he wasn’t surprised when Niall clapped him on the back when he sat down at his own table. He was surprised, though, when he got a text at the end of the day from Louis saying that they needed to talk. Of course he knew they needed to talk, but he never thought that Louis would be the one to initiate it, specifically so soon. Louis was odd like that, sometimes. He was such a bold character – loud, obnoxious at times, outgoing – but he was terrible at confrontation. He was brilliant with his words and could convey anything he was feeling into a poem or a story, but going up to the person whom he needed to speak to was his demise. Once someone got him talking, there was no stopping him. So Harry stared down at his phone, at the few words, and braced himself for the conversation that was coming. 

It was cold as Harry walked on the path towards the house, and he pulled his brown peacoat further around his shoulders. November had come to them quickly, and their first snow had came and went, melting a few days after it had occurred. The light was leaving as he walked to the treehouse, and he wondered if this time he would be walking back alone again. He looked up at the treehouse and saw through the windows that it was faintly lit. He had no idea how he pulled that one off. He climbed up slowly, gearing up for whatever was to come with this visit to the house. 

Louis was on the floor when he walked in, a big pillow underneath his bum, a blanket over his lap, and a huge sweatshirt covering his torso. Harry thought he looked so adorable; he wanted to smother him. There were candles scattered throughout the treehouse and a fire hazard went off in his head, but the first thing that he could let slip out of his mouth was, “Do you really have herpes?” 

Louis burst out laughing, his stomach moving up and down from where he was on the floor, the sound tinkling throughout the house. Butterflies soared in Harry’s stomach. “I heard that!” Louis replied, and Harry thought it was so nice to hear his voice again – happy, that is. “But, no, I don’t.” 

“I thought it was necessary to double check,” Harry said back, tone lighthearted and calm. He was still in the doorway, though, so Louis patted the cushion next to him, and Harry took his invitation, sock-clad feet padding across the hard wood, a hint of a smile spreading across his face at the simple gesture. He sat down next to him, legs sprawling out, back resting against the desk, unlike Louis who was all folded up, legs crossed Indian style. Their arms were pressed together just lightly, and Harry desperately wanted to curl into Louis‘ side and wrap his arms around his waist and press his lips to his neck. 

“Fair enough,” Louis finally murmured back, and his voice was soft and gentle, and the light of the candles was nice, soothing. There was a silence for a moment, and Harry didn’t mind. He listened to the breathing coming from Louis’ lungs, and a loud sigh came from Louis’ lips. He laid back against the desk, and he looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, but at the same time, he looked relieved. He spoke without opening his eyes again. “How are you?” 

“I’m–” And Harry cut himself off. He was going for the automatic answer of good, but, really, he wasn’t that good. “I’m okay. I’ve been better, like,” ( _when I was with you_ ) “before, but yeah. Just keep on going, y’know? It’s the same old same old, really. Drawing quite a bit, schoolwork, too much maths, hanging out with Ni and Li.” His voice wasn’t quite defeated, but he was quiet, because that was the truth. He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t good. He was average. 

“I would say that’s good to hear, but I wish you were happier, Haz,” Louis stated honestly, voice raw. 

“I could be,” Harry said back. 

“Could you?” Louis breathed, and his eyes opened again, blue a little brighter from when they first closed. 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “I could.” 

“Okay,” Louis said back, and they both knew how. 

There was a silence again, and this one was a little more tense, a little more awkward. 

Harry broke it. 

“Can you tell me what happened with Eleanor?” 

Louis took a deep breath. “She broke up with me.” He took a pause, and Harry didn’t interrupt like he could’ve, to say, _well, that was a given_. He didn’t want to be a twat. “She said that she didn’t feel _connected_ to me anymore. And I mean, that was obvious. I hadn’t felt connected to her in ages. I didn’t cry. I think she thought I was going to cry, and seeing her upset, well, it hurt a little, because, I dated her for a long time, y’know? But yeah, she just said that we didn’t feel _together_ anymore, and it was fairly mutual, but we’re done, yeah.” 

“Oh,” was all Harry could let out when he was finished. He just didn’t know what to say. Sure, he was happy that they were broken up, but just because Louis was done with Eleanor, it didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to pick Harry right back up again. It was complicated. 

“Yeah,” Louis followed. 

It was Harry who took a deep breath this time, and he said, “What does that mean for us?” 

“Us?” Louis echoed. 

“Yeah,” Harry repeated, and his voice was a little shaky and he was really unsure. He wasn’t even looking at Louis. He didn’t think he could. He stared at the door, at the word _renew_. It was white, but outlined in black so it would show up on the thin strip of paper. Pure, rejuvenation. “Us.” 

“I think...” Louis murmured, thinking for a moment. He took Harry’s hand. “I think we’re right here.” And he twined their fingers together, and Harry couldn’t help the smile the spread across his face. He liked it right here. Louis was watching him with a grin scrawled all over his face, and his thumb was rubbing on the inside of Harry’s wrist. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

“God, yes,” Harry said, because he has missed that a lot. So Louis unfolded his legs and pushed the blanket off of his body, having it clump in a blanket next to them. He crawled on Harry’s lap, their hips aligned, and Louis cupped Harry’s face between his hands, staring at him like he was the most beautiful thing to have ever graced the Earth, his fingers fanning across his smooth, pale skin, marveling his beauty. He pressed their lips together gently, and Harry breathed out heavily, because he felt _whole_ again. His hands found the back of Louis’ neck and tugged him closer, not feeling with just a simple press of the lips. He needed more, he needed to be closer, to remember everything about him, to have every memory, every touch, every kiss come back to him. 

He slotted their lips together properly, his lower lip catching in between Louis’. Their mouths moved together, breath hot and Harry thought it was so, so nice. Nice like he hadn’t felt in such a long time. His tongue pushed past Louis’ lips, and Louis moved closer, ever so closer, and his hands moved from Harry’s face to his shoulders and down his biceps and to what he can reach of his back. He pulled away with a tug on Harry’s bottom lip and pressed his lips to Harry’s neck. He murmured against the skin, “I missed you again, darling.” And it reminded Harry of the last time they were kissing up here. He liked that moment. 

“I missed you, too,” Harry said fiercely. “Missed you so fucking much.” 

“Yeah,” Louis breathed, “yeah.” He bit down on the soft skin of his neck, sucking a mark there and licking the pale skin. “So pretty,” he whispered. He pressed kisses down Harry’s neck when there was a bright red and purple mark where he was sucking, and he pressed them on his shoulder where his shirt has slipped again, and he pressed them to the underside of his jaw, and he pressed them to the beginning of his chest, and made another mark on his collarbones. “Love your skin, Haz,” he said, hands smoothing up the soft skin of his arms and then meeting him for another kiss. Louis moved the pillow that was underneath him and shoved it so it could be closer to Harry. He pushed on Harry’s shoulders to get him to lie down, and he complied, his head resting on the pillow that Louis moved, and Louis continued to bite at his pretty alabaster skin, the sharpness of his collarbones. 

Harry liked it like that, Louis on top of him but his hands free to wander Louis’ back and his bum and his shoulders. His finger tips spread across the entirety of Louis’ back, the skin warm from underneath his sweatshirt and his t-shirt that’s beneath that. He let a finger tip trace all the way up Louis’ spine and back down again, hands pressing into the dimples at the base of his back and even daring to dip into his jeans for a moment, giving his arse a quick squeeze before coming back to his shoulders and having his fingers trace the dips of Louis intricate collarbones, almost as sharp as his own. He cupped his jaw for another kiss, breaking him away from the softness of his skin and to the warmth of his lips. He licked into his mouth and gripped his shoulders hard, keeping close because he never wanted to let go. 

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” he said into his mouth. “Shit, I love you,” he let out before he could stop himself. 

“I love you, too,” Louis replied without hesitation. “Love you lots.” 

They kissed and kissed, and they were avoiding everything else they had to talk about. They were pushing it to the back of their minds because for the moment, that wasn’t what was important. Come tomorrow, it would be, but for now all they could focus on was the warmth of their heated skin and the smoothness of their puffy lips and the softness of their light breathing. And after a while, they stopped kissing and Louis crawled into Harry’s lap and draped the blanket over them. His legs were on the other side of Harry’s waist and his head was in the crook of his neck. He felt small. It was a good small. Safe. 

Harry hands traced Louis’ waist, up and down the slight indent of his hips and the sharp point of his hipbones and the knobs of his spine. They were quiet, and Harry decided that he wanted music, so he reached into the desk that they leant against, movements a little off due to the boy in his lap and the fact that he couldn’t see what he was doing, but eventually he pulled out the shitty old iPod and speakers that would become shot out any day now. 

“Song request?” Harry asked, flicking through the artists on the screen. He was indecisive. 

“Mmh..” Louis murmured into Harry’s neck where his lips where still lightly pressed. “Come on Get Higher – Matt Nathanson.” 

“Loosen my lips...” Harry singsonged as he pressed play. Louis kissed him softly, and they sat in a silence again, just listening. Harry’s arms tightened around Louis’ waist as they breathed together. Harry decided that the quiet was peaceful. They didn’t need to talk just yet. They didn’t need to speak or disagree or yell or discuss. They could just talk through simple breaths and soft kisses and warm embraces until that time came where they needed to actually figure things out. Sure, they were procrastinating, but they didn’t care too much. 

They spent time dj’ing on the old iPod, playing good songs and stupid songs and songs they hadn’t listened to in ages. 

“Play Creep,” Louis said at one point. 

“You’re a creep,” Harry muttered, flicking through the iPod. 

“Well, _I_ think you’re so fucking special,” Louis murmured back cheesily, quoting the song. 

“Sap,” Harry said. 

“I will admit to that. Although, says you, who can’t get enough of the rom-coms.” 

“Excuse me!” Harry said indignantly. “You love them, too.” Louis sighed with a sheepish smile, because yeah, that was true. Harry wasn’t sure how many songs they made it through, but when he glanced at his phone it was nearing half five, and he realized that his mum would be home soon and he should probably get some of his homework done. “Lou,” he said. 

“Hmm?” he answered back noncommittally. 

“I’ve gotta go.” 

“No, you don’t,” Louis stated, and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and clung tightly to him. “You’re not leaving.” 

“Lou, I have to. My mum’s gonna be home soon, and I’ve got a shitload of homework.” 

“You suck.” 

“Sorry, babe.” 

Louis rolled his eyes, but untangled himself from Harry’s legs. He stood and brushed his legs off, offering a hand to Harry who took it gratefully. “Can I at least walk you home?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I’d love that.” 

Louis smiled at him and picked up a flashlight off of one of the desks. “Always bring it,” he said when Harry gave him a funny look. “It’s dark, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Of course.” He laughed at himself for being dumb but shook it off when he followed Louis out the door after they blew out the candles. They slipped on their shoes and climbed down without a word, and a jolt went through Harry when Louis took his hand when they were both on the path. 

“Well,” Louis stated, “lead the way.” 

Harry nodded, remembering that Louis came from the other direction and that he had never been to his house before. They walked down the path with Louis shining his torch before them, and Harry squeezed Louis’ hand tight. He didn’t want to let go. It felt like this whole night had been a dream and when he woke up, Louis would be gone again and that hole in his heart would open right back up, chest heavy, eyes red, _fragmented_ again. 

“Lou,” Harry murmured. 

“Yeah, darling?” 

(Harry’s heart didn’t jump in his chest when he called him that. Of course not.) He breathed deep. “I– what comes with tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” Louis echoed. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “Tomorrow.” 

They stopped on the path, and they were nearly out of the woods by then. Louis squeezed his hand and took a breath of his own. “I just had my relationship end today, Haz, and you know I love you, yeah? I just – I don’t think I can just show up to school and be like, ‘Oh! I have a boyfriend now!’ I’ll warm up to it, yeah? Just like, ease into it, and eventually, I’ll love to hold you hand in the hallways and show everyone how I feel. But I’m still scared – it’ll be so different. I need a bit to adjust. Soon, okay?” 

“Soon,” Harry breathed. He paused and played with Louis’ fingers. “Do you think that you and Zayn and them could sit with us tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Louis said. “That’d be nice.” 

Harry grinned at him like he was start which he revolved around, and Louis pulled him in for a soft kiss, their hands twined between them. Harry had to break it because of his smile, and he bumped their chests together, and then their noses. 

“C’mon,” Louis murmured, and he pulled them further up the path, his flashlight illuminating the ground. “Which way?” he asked when they reached the road. The streetlights where on, making it bright enough so they could see, and Harry briefly wondered what it would be like in the winter; if they would spend their time in the house pressed close with several blankets and lots of candles and tucked into each other’s sides. He wondered what the street lights would look like with snow swirling underneath them and Christmas lights strung on the houses. He wondered if they would walk home together like this every night. He hoped so. 

“Just up the street,” Harry told him. “Third on the left.” Louis flicked off his torch and tucked it into the pocket of his big hoodie. He bumped his shoulder into Harry’s as they walked, stopping to nose into his jaw just once. Once they were on the doorstep of his house, Harry found himself not wanting to let go of the hand that felt so right in his own. He squeezed his hand and pressed his other, cold one to the smoothness of Louis’ cheek. Louis backed him up against the railing of his porch and kissed him, their breath showing up as clouds between kisses, the air around them cold but amidst them warm, hot even. Louis tried to pull away – he had to be a responsible boyfriend, didn’t he? (That wasn’t going to work out.) But Harry pulled him closer again, hand moving from his cheek to the back of his head and keeping their lips pressed together, because Harry _really_ didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. 

He pressed several more pecks against Louis’ lips when he felt it was really necessary to stop, and the smack of their lips and the heaves of their breath was loud against the silence of the cold night. Harry rested their foreheads together and sighed, surrendering. “I have to go in.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Louis chuckled. “Goodnight, darling,” he murmured, moving a stray curl from his eyes and pushing their lips together one last time. 

“Goodnight, Lou.” 

“See you tomorrow?” Louis asked, and his voice was adorably hopeful, and he sounded so _happy_ , and that was one of the things Harry had missed the most: the pure joy and lightheartedness of it, the high tinkle of his laugh, the crackle of embarrassment that happened on occasion. 

“Tomorrow,” Harry echoed. And he wasn’t worried about tomorrow, because tomorrow meant another day at the place – with the person – where he truly found _serendipity._


	13. Epilogue

The rest of the year, well, the short two months that it was, progressed in secrecy. They would kiss in the candle light and write and draw in the coldness of the treehouse but the warmth of each others’ arms, too. They would meet everyday after school since the football season ended, and now that they were socially considered “friends,” sometimes Louis would walk with Harry straight to the house and once they got far away enough from the school they would join hands. It was a little tiresome, hiding all the time, but then Harry would think about the times that he was alone and crying, so the good definitely weighed out the bad. He was happy. He felt at home. 

The little fantasy Harry had came true. Louis would walk Harry home every night, and when it started to snow at night, they would kiss with snowflakes in their hair and on the shoulders of their peacoats and sticking to the length of their eyelashes. Christmas lights would make the snow glisten, and a fond little smile would always be on Louis’ face when he saw the way Harry’s eyes would glow and how beautiful he looked with snow in his curls. 

Harry’s mum eventually wanted to know where he was running off to every afternoon, so he told her everything because he knew there was no reason to hide from her. She was in awe of the treehouse, and she absolutely adored Louis. He charmed the pants off of her, and she was always welcoming into her home. Harry had never been happier. 

Harry was invited to both of Louis’ birthday parties. When Louis came out to his parents, he brought Harry home and told everything to his mum. He cried. Harry held his hand the whole way through. His mum hugged him tight. So he held his hand at his family dinner and smiled at him from across the room when half the school was at his house. Half way through the night, he tugged him into the bathroom when no one was looking and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. No one else in the room could figure out why his lips were so pink. There was no punch to blame it on. Harry wore a grin the entire rest of he evening. 

They spent a lot of the winter hols together. They drove to Manchester and walked through the town and spent the night at a hotel and had dinner in a restaurant. They slept in the same bed, and Louis laid Harry down and told him how lovely he was, how beautiful he was. They fucked for the first time, and Harry thought nothing else could feel so good. He knew it was the best thing in the world to fall asleep next to someone he loved. And the next morning Harry sucked Louis off, and then they walked hand in hand to the cafe down the street to have brunch. Harry felt really, really in love. 

After New Years, Harry and Louis talked a lot about things, and on their first day back at school, they walked through the doors with their hands clasped. The reaction wasn’t as bad as Louis suspected, but was exactly as much as Harry did. Their friends grinned at them. Eleanor looked confused but not surprised. Half of the football team clapped Louis on the back. The other half ignored him. The girls fawned over them. The boys were split. They got compliments and gasps and smiles and frowns and a couple of comments that made Louis feel sick. But they were out, and their hands were clasped, and Louis could feel Harry’s pulse against his wrist, so he knew he’d be okay. He had found his serendipity.


End file.
